Of Deduction Shows and Other Tales
by Boogum
Summary: A collection of DC one-shots. Characters and genres will vary. Chapter 18: Of Alcohol and Robotic Cats.
1. In Which Kid Just Wants a Day Off

**In Which Kaitou Kid Just Wants a Day Off**

His nose was dripping. Again.

Kid the Phantom Thief gave a very loud, very inelegant sniff. His nose didn't clear. In fact, the snotty trail continued to flow even harder. He cursed and conjured what looked like a bunch of tissues out of thin air, then proceeded to make a lot of trumpet-like noises. Damn that stupid old man and his stupid challenges. Damn the police, and damn that shrunken detective as well!

"Everyone wants Kid," the thief muttered bitterly, crawling out from the tight vent space and making his way into the moonlit corridor. "Sure, just send him a notice and he'll come straight to you. It's no trouble at all. Never mind that he might have his own plans."

His nose started to drip again. Kid let out a whole string of curses this time and even dipped into a few foreign languages to mix up his choice of expletives. By the holy gods, if his nose didn't stop dripping like some bloody leaky faucet, he was going to—

"Well, well," an amused voice said from behind him. "It seems that even the uncatchable Kaitou Kid can't run from the common cold."

Kid froze and then closed his eyes in a repressed sigh. He would know that sarcastic little voice anywhere. As such, he was not surprised when he turned around to find a small boy with glasses standing in front of him.

"Detective," Kid greeted coolly. Except he had to go and ruin the effect with another loud sniff.

Gah. This was why Kid had wanted to put his heists on hold until he recovered from his illness. It was a fact that a magician-turned-thief had no hope of capturing any audience, let alone a prized jewel, when he was rosy cheeked with fever and had to decide between taking the risk of orchestrating a whole chorus of sniffs, thus giving away his presence, or just stuffing some tissues up his nose and being done with it. If only that old man Suzuki had just left him alone. What Kid wouldn't give to be at home in bed right now. Even standing upright was taking monumental effort, and his head felt like it was weighted with bricks.

Conan's eyes narrowed. "You know, you really don't look so good. Those tricks tonight were sloppy as well. Not up to your usual standard at all."

Kid waved his hand in a dismissive manner. "We all have our off days."

"You don't," Conan said pointedly.

Kid stared at the boy with the unimpressed look he usually reserved for Aoko when she had said something particularly inane. So the white-clad magician was renowned for being a meticulous planner and putting on spectacular shows for his heists. Big whoop. Tonight, Kid had simply done the motions. And he didn't care one bit. In fact, he was steadily losing what little patience he had for this whole night. So, instead of making a witty retort, he just conjured more tissues and blew his nose with a defiant, trumpet-like toot.

 _Yeah, that's right. I'm bloody Kaitou Kid and I just blew my nose in front of you. Deal with it._

The mini-sized detective raised his eyebrows. "Did you ever consider just not showing up for the heist?"

Kid rolled his eyes. "This is Jirokichi Suzuki we're talking about. Can you imagine how obnoxious he'd be if I didn't show? It'd be even worse than what he's like when I do. In fact," the thief continued, warming up to his imagined scenario, "I wouldn't put it past that crazy old man to stalk me all the way to my house and find a way to challenge me there, just so he can prove that he really can capture me." Kid placed a hand against his forehead, sighing in that theatrical way only he could pull off. "Besides, if it's not Suzuki leaving a calling card, then it's some nutcase criminal trying to impersonate me so they can lay their crime at my feet. And if it's not one of those shady types, it's some obsessed fangirl trying to lure me into her dungeon room where she keeps all her chains and leather, and—"

Conan's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. "You sure you're not the one who's mentally unstable?"

Kid folded his arms across his chest. "My point is that even Phantom Thieves need to have a sick day now and then, but that's a bit difficult when people keep bombarding me with their needy little notices and impersonation letters!" He scowled and averted his face. "Geez, I do have a life outside of stealing jewels, you know? Not that anyone cares. It's just all 'Oh, Kid, you've been quiet lately. No, that can't be because you have exams to pass or a mop-wielding girl to appease. Please come and steal this jewel from me so I can feel important again.'"

The little detective stared at him blankly for a moment. Then his mouth twitched. Then the twitch became a smile, and then Conan was outright chuckling. Kid felt the colour drain from his face as he realised far, far too late just how much information he had given away with his fever ramblings. Damn it. This was why he wanted to stay home! Poker Faces went to hell when he was sleep-deprived and sick.

Kid leaned forward so that he was eye level with the detective. "You are not to repeat that to anyone. Not a soul, got it?"

Conan managed to repress his laughter. "Fair enough. You've kept my secret, after all."

Kid nodded in satisfaction and straightened to his full height. "Glad we understand each other. " He pulled out the jewel from his pocket. "Now for this."

Conan frowned at the gem. A detective was still a detective, after all. Kid ignored him and raised the stone up to the moonlight, watching to see if it would change colour. It didn't.

"Catch," Kid said, and tossed the stone.

Conan caught the gem in his hands. "Why do you even bother when you just give them back?"

Kid's mouth curved into a smile. "Because one day, little detective, I just might find the jewel I've been looking for."

Charm. Presence. Mystery. The whole line and delivery had it in oodles. _Oodles_! Until Kid sniffed, that is.

"Well," Conan said dryly, "while you're out hunting for that jewel, maybe you should get yourself some cold medicine."

Kid just groaned pitifully and conjured more tissues. "I hate you."

Conan smiled and stepped back, already knowing what was coming next. Kid didn't bother to tip his hat in goodbye; instead, he let out one last, trumpet-like toot and then vanished in a cloud of smoke. No hellish soccer balls were fired that day.


	2. In Which Gin Attends a Theme Park

Because I have always wondered why Gin and Vodka were on that rollercoaster ride …

* * *

 **In Which Gin Attends a Theme Park**

Gin was not happy. In fact, he was close to pulling out his Beretta 92 and shoving the barrel of the gun in his partner's mouth, if only to shut the idiot up. Being stuck at Tropical Land was vile enough; having to put up with Vodka's inane suggestions for how they could "pass the time" was like listening to fingernails scratching on chalkboards. If it wasn't incessant pleas for ice cream or takoyaki ("It'll help us blend in, Aniki!"), it was ridiculously transparent suggestions that they try out some of the attractions. Their current conversation was a case in point.

"Aniki," Vodka said in what he thought was probably a winning voice, "we still have time before the meeting with that company owner. We could—"

"No."

"But—"

"No," Gin repeated, and glared at his partner for good measure. "There will be no pirate ships, no log rides, no bumper cars. Just no."

Vodka pouted. Idiot was like an overgrown baby. Gin lit up a cigarette, despite the "No Smoking" sign displayed a metre away, and purposely ignored the stockier man. He wished he had taken someone else with him on this job. Even Vermouth, privately known as Verboobs amongst most of the males of the Organisation (though Gin usually just called her That Woman), would have been better. Verboobs might be as trustworthy as a snake and smug to a fault, but at least she wouldn't have whined in his ear about food and stupid theme park rides. Unfortunately, someone had to keep an eye on Vodka, and that role had fallen to Gin.

Gin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, trying to ward off a sudden headache. Damn this sick-making place. Tropical Land was a blight on his soul: too colourful, too cheerful, and too damn full of people. If someone gave him a machine gun and a suitcase of plastic explosives, he would have happily set about renovating the theme park to make it more to his likings.

A chilling smile curved Gin's mouth. Ah, blood and screaming. Now there was something he could enjoy. Vodka saw his expression and must have mistaken the smile for a softening of attitude, because he once again tried to convince Gin that it was in their best interest to try one of the rides.

"Look, there's the Mystery Coaster," Vodka said in a hopeful voice. He pointed at a garishly decorated tunnel that was no doubt filled with equally garish props to frighten training-bra wearing girls and their milk-chinned, male companions. The penises were obviously for decoration; real men did not do theme park rides. Ever. "Weren't you saying before that you wanted to get a good vantage point to view the ferris wheel and see if that guy came alone?"

Gin made a noncommittal sound. It was true that he wanted to make sure they were not about to walk into a trap. He only had one policy: trust no one. It was a way of life that had got him to where he was now: an executive agent within the Organisation with a knack for sniffing out traitors before the double-crossing bastards could even begin to start crossing. So, naturally, he was suspicious of the fat company owner whom they were about to meet. Greasy-handed smugglers like Fat Man were usually cowards, and cowards did stupid things like try inviting their friends to _private_ meetings. Gin was not fond of uninvited guests. Still, right now he was even less impressed with Vodka.

"What's your point?" Gin asked, blowing out a cloud of smoke and flicking some ash from the tip of his cigarette.

Vodka grinned, encouraged by the fact that the long-haired man was responding with more than a grunt. "This ride will give us a good view of Tropical Land—especially the area around the ferris wheel. We'll be able to see if there is anyone suspicious lurking around our man, and we'll be able to do it without even alerting him to our presence."

Gin's eyes narrowed. The proposal was … oddly logical. They would indeed have a good vantage point from the coaster, and it was unlikely Fat Man would look up at the Mystery Coaster ride seats to find his blackmailers in amongst the other passengers. The problem was Gin's own pride (see previous note about milk-chinned males), not to mention his suspicion that Vodka had only made the proposal because the idiot was getting desperate and wanted to go on at least one ride before they left the theme park.

Vodka plastered his best "Ima Serious Guy Doing Serious Business" expression on his face. No one was buying it—especially not Gin—but the blond could not ignore the obvious benefits from following the strategy. They _did_ need to know if their target had brought friends, and it was important they do it without arousing suspicion. Skilled or not, there was only the two of them to conduct the trade. The last thing Gin needed was to deal with some meat-for-hire rookies with guns in the middle of a theme park. Upholding the secrecy of the Organisation was a must.

Expression showing nothing, Gin took a last puff of his smoke and let the cigarette slip from long fingers to the ground. He ground the burning tip out with the heel of his shoe and then, without a word, began casually walking towards the Mystery Coaster. Vodka stood frozen for a moment, but then quickly rushed after Gin, suitcase in hand.

"Bro," Vodka said, trying and failing to sound like the Big Bad Criminal he was meant to be, "does this mean you approve? We're really going to ride the Mystery Coaster?"

Gin's left eye twitched. "Don't get carried away, Vodka. We're doing this for reconnaissance work only. If you so much as squeal, scream or laugh while next to me on the ride, I will shoot you with my Beretta 92. Your spilt blood will be the balm to all the wounded sensibilities I have suffered this day."

Vodka promptly hid his grin behind a suitably villainous expression. Big Bad Criminal Face was on. "Right," he said in his best gruff voice. "We've gotta look for that guy and make sure he came alone."

Gin just ground his teeth and entered the garishly decorated tunnel. This ride had better be worth it.


	3. In Which Pockets Thwart Evil

This idea came about through a conversation with C.S.Y. Shadows in regards to why Gin never attempts to blend in by changing his outfit (seriously, who goes to a theme park to avoid suspicion looking like some wannabe gangster … or a fedora-wearing pedo?). Anyway, these things were pondered, as was the problem of whatever happened to that pipe Gin used to hit Shinichi with on the head. Naturally, the logical conclusion is that his coat has miraculous storage powers à la Link from _The Legend of Zelda_ and can fit pipes and all other sundries inside.

Thus, a crackfic was born.

* * *

 **In Which Pockets Are the Thwarters of Evil**

"Found him," Vodka said with a grin.

He pushed the whimpering man onto his knees, then stepped back with a nod to his partner. Gin raised his head, face shadowed beneath the rim of his fedora. The glow of his cigarette burned bright red for an instant, illuminating cold features and even colder eyes; then the light vanished as the tip of his cigarette turned to tumbling ash. Gin exhaled a cloud of smoke and lazily detached himself from the wall, closing in on his victim with slow, purposeful steps.

"P-please," the man begged, practically kowtowing. "I-I'll do better next time. I—"

"Sorry," Gin said coolly. "This is a one-chance only business." Mouth curling into a cruel smile, he reached into his coat and pulled out—

"A hairbrush?" the man said, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

Gin blinked and glanced down at the thing clutched in his hand that was definitely not his Beretta 92. Well, damn. This was awkward.

Vodka let out a small cough. "Ah, Aniki?"

Gin shoved the hairbrush back into his pocket and then pulled out the next hard thing his fingers touched. It was a phone charger. A low growl escaped the blond's lips. He began reaching into his coat with frantic speed, pulling out anything his fingers brushed. Keys, a lighter, a nicely wrapped bento lunch with a little note scrawled on top from the boss ("Have a great day at work!"), some loose change. Damn, damn, damn. Where was that bloody gun?

Vodka scratched his cheek. "Um, Aniki," he tried again.

Gin wasn't listening. He had moved onto the next pocket. Some already scratched lottery tickets appeared in his hand, then gel pens, then a dog whistle (ah, poor Leg Chomper. How they all missed that furry little demon), a can of diet coke, handfuls of glitter, one of Vermouth's bras—

Vodka opened and closed his mouth like a fish when he spotted the lacy bit of lingerie. "T-that's Verboo—Aniki, you _didn't_?"

Gin just frowned and tossed the bra away, then carried on with his search inside the miraculous storage space that was his coat. He unearthed a long metal pipe (oh, hey, that was what they'd used to bash that detective boy's head), a small orange ball with four stars on top (Vodka instinctively glanced up at the sky in case a monkey boy riding a cloud suddenly appeared … it had happened before. Don't judge). However, Gin didn't even pause, still rummaging inside his coat for his elusive gun. He pulled out mah-jong tiles from his pockets, a box set of _Full Metal Panic_ ("Hey, that's mine!" Vodka exclaimed), and even a fish bowl filled with water, complete with a swimming koi fish.

The man on the ground just sighed. "I don't understand what is going on at all, but this has got to be the most bizarre build-up to an execution ever."

"Shut up!" Gin snarled.

The blond was looking decidedly flustered now: his cheeks were splashed with pink, and his eyes were wild and glittering. The coat that had once been his best partner in crime for its never-ending storage space had now become his greatest foe. How was he supposed to shoot this stupid man in the head if he could not find his gun?

Vodka stepped forward. "Ah, Aniki, you can use my gun if you li—"

"I don't want your gun!" Gin snapped, folding his arms across his chest.

There was a long silence. If Verboobs were with them, she would have told him off for sounding like a whiny child. Fortunately, she wasn't. Gin was thus able to indulge in his sulking fit without any comments from annoying, big-busted females.

"Um," the stooped over man ventured, "are you still going to kill me?"

Gin opened his mouth to retort when they heard the unmistakable sound of girlish chatter and laughter. He froze and exchanged a glance with Vodka, who just shrugged as if to say it was Gin's call. The blond frowned. Much as he wanted to kill the fool at his feet, protecting the secrecy of the Organisation was more important. It seemed their window of opportunity had closed up for tonight. Time to bail before they had to deal with a bunch of witnesses.

Gin collected the fragments of his wounded dignity (and his scattered belongings), and then leaned down so that he was eye level with the man. "Lucky you, it seems you get to live another night."

"D-does this mean I get a second chance?" the man asked hopefully.

"Perhaps," Gin said. "You'll have to prove your worthiness to the Organisation first."

Which was a lie. The moment Gin found his gun, he'd shoot the idiot in his idiot head. Then he would bask in the glory of spilt blood and maybe drink some gin, just for the hell of it. Gotta live up to his name of being a dastardly devil and all that.

Vodka hauled the man to his feet. "Come on, you're coming with us."

The three headed back to Gin's Porsche, away from the herd of females that rounded the corner, who were all chattering excitedly about some "Kid-sama". Idiots. Gin slid into the driver's seat, while Vodka took shotgun and the snivelling man was shoved into the back. The blond started the engine and drove onto the road, still fuming over the fact he had not been able to find his gun. That was when he noticed that Vodka was shooting him a narrowed-eyed look.

"What?" Gin said sharply.

"You said you didn't know where my _Full Metal Panic_ box set had gone," Vodka said, pouting a little.

Gin just clenched the wheel tight between his fingers. Tonight definitely was not his night.

* * *

Well, there you go. My cracktastic tale solving the mystery of Gin's coat. Big thanks to Allison for giving me ideas for things Gin could pull out from his pockets.

Next up: Kaitou Kid's true identity is put at risk when a furry detective comes sniffing. Whatever is a phantom thief to do?


	4. In Which Kid is Cornered

Note: This one-shot is set after 'Kaitou Kid vs the Strongest Safe'. You'll probably want to watch that episode before reading if you haven't already, as this one-shot won't make much sense without some knowledge of what went down in that safe.

I'm also following the manga-verse for this one, so Kid doesn't know Conan's real identity and Conan has never seen Kid dress up as him before. Why? Well, you'll have to read and see …

* * *

 **In Which Kid is Cornered**

Edogawa Conan was used to solving mysteries. He was a detective, after all, and piecing together the truth from a bread crumb trail of facts that other people saw as an impossible mess was what he did on a daily basis. It was just second nature. Unfortunately, the mysteries that he usually solved involved a corpse of some kind (be it burnt, bloodied or bloated), and that got old after a while. There was only so much a guy could take of looking at cold, lifeless things without starting to feel like some Shinigami-in-training. He liked mysteries, thank you very much. He did not like dead bodies.

In any case, that was why Conan had started taking more interest in Kid the Phantom Thief's heists. No blood and no victims (unless you count the Kaitou Kid Task Force, one of whom was almost always knocked out, stripped, and then locked in a bathroom for however long their identity was needed ). But that wasn't the point. The point was that there were no dead bodies at Kid's heists. Ever. It was like a breath of fresh air and, though Conan would never admit it aloud (especially not within the thief's hearing), the heists were just plain _fun._

Kid might be an annoying thief with a flair for the dramatic, but his skill with magic, combined with an intelligence that matched even Conan's, did make him a worthy opponent in their battle of wits. Conan was shamelessly looking forward to tonight's heist (and unravelling and ruining Kid's plans every step of the way). For now, however, he had to suffer through a walk in the park with Ran, Sonoko and Suzuki Jirokichi's dog, the ironically named Lupin.

Conan's flat expression and twitching eyebrow said how much he was enjoying the unplanned excursion. Not that he didn't like dogs. Or Ran. Or even Sonoko (though he still thought she was one of the most irritating girls he had ever met). It was the fact that at this very same moment, while he was stuck listening to Sonoko tease Ran about her love for the absent Kudo Shinichi—never mind that he was _right there_ , albeit in miniature form—there were a group of adults crowded in a hi-tech van coming up with a plan to capture Kid. Conan felt like he'd drawn the short straw. People were making plots and traps that he just knew he could help improve if he were given the chance, and he got stuck listening to girly gossip. Because Lupin needed a walk. Because Sonoko had said she would take the dog. Because where Sonoko went, Ran (and a reluctant Conan) was sure to follow.

Conan sighed. This sucked. Lupin didn't seem to care for the topic of conversation either. The dog had wandered off towards one of the park benches, where a teenage boy wearing jeans and a casual button-down shirt sat hunched over his phone. The boy must have been listening to something, because he tilted his head and touched his left ear, right where a small earpiece could just be glimpsed. Conan could not see his face.

"And then I said—" Ran broke off and glanced around in confusion. "Where's Lupin?"

Conan pointed to the bench. "There."

"Geez," Sonoko muttered, planting her hands on her hips and turning to look where he had pointed. "That dog is as bad as the four-eyed brat: always wandering off the moment you turn awa—" She trailed off, her eyes widening.

Conan frowned, wondering what had caused the brunette to look so startled. He got his answer a second later.

"Sh-Shinichi?"

The sound of his own name on Ran's lips had him spinning around in surprise. Both girls stood as if paralysed, their jaws slack, just staring at the teenage boy who Conan had seen sitting on the park bench. The boy who was now trying to shoo away a wagging Lupin, and who could have been a carbon copy of Kudo Shinichi.

Now it was Conan's jaw that went slack. What the hell was going on?

Ran was the first to snap out of her daze. Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands into fists. The next thing Conan knew, Ran was stalking towards the unsuspecting teen with murder in her eyes.

"Ah, wait!" Conan exclaimed, reaching out his hand. "Ran-neechan!"

But the girl did not listen. Cursing under his breath, Conan had no choice but to dash after her as fast as his little legs would carry him, knowing for a fact that the boy she was about to terrorise was not Kudo Shinichi. Sonoko trailed behind.

"Oi, oi," they heard the teen mutter to the dog, who was still wagging ecstatically. "You can't hang around here. Go on." He gave the dog a nudge. "Go back to your owner."

A shadow fell over the teen. He glanced up, shielding his eyes to see Ran looming over him.

"Shinichi!" she growled, grabbing the boy by his collar.

Panic flickered in blue eyes that could have been Conan's, they were so alike. The boy held his hands up in an appeasing gesture. "Um, I think you have the wrong person."

Ran twisted her lips. "Do you really think I'm going to believe that?" She pointed at his head. "I'd recognise that—that—" A crease formed on her brow. "Did you style your hair differently?"

The boy leaned back, avoiding the jabbing motion of her finger. "Uh, no. Not that it really matters, since I'm not Shinichi."

Ran's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you're not just saying that?" She moved forward so that they were almost nose to nose, still gripping his collar. "Because if you're lying—"

"I'm not lying," he insisted. "I've never met any of you before. I don't even know who this Shinichi guy is!"

A crease formed on Conan's brow. Lupin seemed to disagree that they had never met. The dog was still wagging, nudging his wet nose against the teen's jeans, and every now and then giving a happy bark. It was the behaviour of an animal who saw "FRIEND" in big, bold capitals. Conan would know, because Lupin had been treating him the same way ever since he'd been present when Kaitou Kid had rescued the poor dog from Jirokichi's safe (except there was much more slobbery kisses involved, since Conan happened to be of a more accessible height). If Lupin were the type to normally befriend strangers, the dog's behaviour now wouldn't be such a big deal, but Lupin had never shown much interest in other people before. Something was very suspicious.

Rather, that teen was very suspicious.

Conan frowned at the boy, whose collar was still trapped in Ran's death grip. It was bizarre how much the guy really did resemble his true self. If Conan were in his proper body, they would have looked like twins. Ran seemed to agree. She narrowed her eyes at the Kudo doppelganger, staring at him intently for a moment as if she were performing some special scan to determine if the boy she held trapped was indeed as innocent as he claimed. In response, the boy gave her a winning smile.

The creases deepened on Conan's brow. There was something about that smile—something that felt so familiar …

Ran released the boy's collar and stepped back. "He's not Shinichi."

"Eh?" Sonoko exclaimed, even as the boy sighed in relief. "How do you know?"

A light dusting of colour came to Ran's cheeks. "I just know, okay? This guy isn't Shinichi." She turned to the boy, who was now fixing up his collar. "I'm sorry." She bowed. "I should not have grabbed you like that."

"Hey, no problem," he said, waving the matter off with a casual hand. "No harm d—"

He broke off as Lupin let out another happy bark and leapt at him, paws hitting his chest. The teen stumbled from the impact and fell on his rear, suddenly finding his lap filled with furry animal and his face smothered in slobbery kisses.

"Lupin, no!" Ran exclaimed.

"Off!" Sonoko shouted at the same time, making a grab for the animal.

Conan's mouth just curved into a wicked little smile. Now that was interesting. He watched as Ran and Sonoko dragged Lupin off his now slobified victim and put said dog back on the leash; watched as the girls bowed and apologised, while the Shinichi doppelganger just kept insisting it was fine. No, really, there was no need to apologise. He'd just go wash his face and no harm done. And of course the doppelganger would say that, since all he cared about was for them to take Lupin and get far away from him.

Sonoko and Ran finally took the hint and made their goodbyes, pausing only to tell Conan that it was time to go. Conan responded with a cheerful "Hai!", though he made no move to follow. Instead, he waited until the girls had gone out of hearing distance, dragging a reluctant Lupin in tow. Then he turned back to his doppelganger.

"You're Kaitou Kid, aren't you?" Conan said bluntly.

The teen froze, eyes widening a fraction. Then a smile was plastered onto his face, covering up any trace of surprise or discomfort.

"Are we really going to do this again?" the doppelganger said, sounding amused. "First I'm Shinichi, and now I'm Kaitou Kid?"

Conan's glasses glinted in the sunlight. "You're definitely not Kudo Shinichi, but as for Kid?" A smile tagged at his lips. "Well, I have every reason to believe that is exactly who you are."

"Oh?" The doppelganger straightened his back, staring down at Conan with the hint of a grin. "Do enlighten me."

"First," Conan said, ticking the word off on his finger, "Lupin."

"The dog?"

Conan nodded. "You recognised the dog straight away, and you knew he recognised you, which was why you panicked and told Lupin that he couldn't 'hang around here'. Most people wouldn't say that to a stranger's dog who was just trying to be friendly. A dog hater might tell Lupin to get lost, but you didn't come across as someone who dislikes animals. After all, you didn't get angry when Lupin jumped on you, nor did you use any real force to drive him away."

"Maybe I just didn't want to be interrupted," the doppelganger said with a shrug. "There's nothing suspicious about telling a dog to go back to its owner."

"Perhaps," Conan allowed, "but when you take into account Lupin's personality and how he normally behaves towards strangers, it definitely is suspicious."

"That so," the teen said. His grin looked more tacked on now than genuine.

Conan's own smile widened fraction. He proceeded to explain how Lupin was not the kind of dog who went out of his way to greet strangers. In fact, there were only three people to whom Lupin showed such open exuberance: Suzuki Jirokichi, Conan himself, and—

"Kaitou Kid," Conan ended softly.

The doppelganger gave a nervous laugh and rubbed the base of his neck. "Maybe the dog just liked the way I smelt or something. I had some yakitori earlier, and—"

Conan let out an amused snort. "Unlike with humans, a dog's senses are not so easily fooled. He liked your scent, alright, but it wasn't because of what you ate earlier. That dog greeted you as if you were a close friend—someone he has met several times before, and who saved him from the Iron Tanuki. That was why he got excited when he heard your voice, and why he jumped on you and licked you like that."

The teen's grin definitely looked brittle now. Even his eyes looked a bit glassy, as if he were trying very hard to maintain a mask of calm amusement when all he probably wanted to do was flee for the hills. Conan had to admit that it was enjoyable to watch Kid squirm. No smug grins to be seen now. No witty little retorts either.

"What can I say?" Kid-who-claimed-he-was-not-Kid said with another nervous laugh. "Maybe I'm just special."

Conan merely raised his second finger. "The other thing that caught my attention was that earpiece you've got inserted into your left ear." He pointed at the device. "You were listening to something on that when I first saw you, though I admit I didn't think much of it then. However, considering that a Kid heist is happening at the museum not far from this park, I'd say that you were listening to the strategy meeting Suzuki and Inspector Nakamori are having at this very moment."

The teen removed the earpiece. "What, this old thing? It's just a Bluetooth speaker. I was using it to listen to music."

Conan raised his eyebrow at the obvious (and weak) lie, but simply moved on with his deduction. He explained that the boy had been behaving suspiciously throughout the conversation with Ran and Sonoko. Most people would have got more upset at being manhandled by a teenage girl, having their identity mistaken for another, and then pounced on by a random dog. Kaitou Kid, however, had every reason to want the girls to leave with dog as quickly as possible.

"After all," Conan said with his most wicked smile yet, " _I_ was right there."

There was a pause as the two boys stared at each other, and then—

"Well, tantei-kun," Kid said, slipping into the smooth tones he used when dressed in moonlit-white, "that was a very interesting deduction. I think you're forgetting something, though."

"What's that?"

Kid bared his teeth in a smile. "You have no proof."

Conan laughed softly. "True. I have no physical evidence to prove that you are Kaitou Kid. That doesn't change the fact that I'm right." A crease formed on his brow. "Though there is something that is still troubling me."

"Oh?"

Conan stared intently at the thief. "Was it intentional?"

Kid blinked. "What?"

Conan waved his hand at Kid's appearance. "I'm assuming you're wearing a mask or some kind of disguise, right? I just wondered if you had intentionally wanted us to see you like this, because, well, you really _do_ look like Kudo Shinichi."

Kid tilted his head to the side, gazing back at Conan like a curious bird. It was obvious that he was confused. Conan wondered if he had been mistaken. Maybe Kid had no idea about his own secret identity. Maybe meeting in the park like this really had just been a coincidence, as was the strange Shinichi-look-alike disguise that Kid had donned. And why the heck was Kid suddenly smiling at him like that?

"I see," Kid said, straightening to his full height.

Now it was Conan's turn to blink. "See what?"

Kid's smile widened, and then—

"Conan-kun!"

The miniaturised detective winced. The next second Ran was hauling him away by the scruff of his jacket, leaving no room for argument. When Conan glanced past her to look back at the park bench, it was to find that Kid had vanished without a trace. Typical.

Conan sighed and folded his arms across his chest, legs still dangling in the air. Just what had Kid realised? Somehow, Conan had to figure it out, as something told him that the answer wasn't going to make him very happy. Kaitou Kid only smiled when he was brewing mischief.

Damn. This was not good. Not good at all.

* * *

 **OMAKE**

* * *

Kuroba Kaito scrolled his finger down the smartphone screen and then clicked on the desired newspaper article. There, under the bold heading "Kudo Shinichi: The Modern Sherlock Holmes", was the image of a boy who looked just like him. Scratch that. A boy who looked just liked that shrimp-sized detective, only more grown up and minus the glasses.

"Why hello, tantei-kun," Kaito—or, rather, Kid—murmured. "It seems that the one who has been caught is you."

A mischievous little smile curved his lips. This was going to be _fun._


	5. In Which There Are Triplets

Kind of a continuation from the last chapter. I know some of you were hoping for a different kind of "sequel", but I feel like the movies do the whole Kid taunting Conan with his Shinichi disguise really well. My muse is opposed to messing with that ... for now.

* * *

 **In Which There Are Triplets**

Hakuba was confused. Very confused. The station was packed with people, but that did nothing to disguise the fact that there were three Kuroba Kaitos standing with him on the platform. Three.

Now, Hakuba Saguru was not prone to hysterics or hallucinations. He told himself that there had to be a rational explanation for why he was seeing three Kurobas. So he examined them closely. All three were wearing jeans and button-down shirts. All three were also talking on the phone; however, there were slight differences. Kuroba One's hair was slightly scruffier, Kuroba Two had a distinct tuft of hair that stuck up at the back, and there was a girl with long brown hair beside him. Nakamori? Hakuba shook his head and focussed on Kuroba number three. This Kuroba's hair was longer than the other two and had been pulled back with a band; there was a sheathed shinai strapped to his back.

Three teenagers talking on a phone. Three very identical faces. Three very separate bodies.

Hakuba blinked and rubbed his eyes. The three Kurobas were still there.

"What in the world?" he muttered.

It was like a nightmare. A terrifying, horrible nightmare. Either some twisted mitosis was going on or Kuroba had placed disguises on people to mess with him (which, when Hakuba thought about it, was the most likely scenario). So, Hakuba did what any detective would: he marched over there and tried to rip off the disguises to find the real Kuroba.

Kuroba Two had been the closest. This Kuroba was not impressed when Hakuba snuck up on him and pinched his cheeks ("WHAT THE HELL? HAKUBA-SAN? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"). Even worse, the long-haired brunette had got rather feisty and kicked Hakuba in the face. It turned out she had not been Nakamori. Instead, Hakuba had just had an informal introduction with Mouri Ran's foot. Connections were formed in Hakuba's (slightly dazed) brain and he put two and two together. Mouri Ran, guy who looked like Kuroba. Damn.

"You're Kudo Shinichi," Hakuba said, sitting up from the ground and staring at the teen.

"Obviously," Kudo said with a frown. "Who did you think I was?"

The answer to this question was soon made apparent. The little scuffle on the platform had brought the other two Kurobas over to investigate. Hakuba noticed that Kuroba One was grinning like he had just won the jackpot at pachinko; Kuroba Three looked mildly concerned and even asked him if he was okay.

Kudo's mouth dropped open as he stared at the two boys who looked just like him. Mouri-san also looked confused (though a little bit dreamy-eyed as well, if that blush was anything to go by). It seemed that she was not opposed to Kuroba triplets. Or maybe just Kudo triplets.

Meanwhile, Hakuba got to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. His jaw was still throbbing from where Mouri-san had kicked him, and his cheeks were a bit pink. Despite his lingering embarrassment, he explained his mistake and apologised for his behaviour. Then he threw a glare at Kuroba One (because there was no doubt that was the real Kuroba), only to discover that his classmate had vanished. Typical. That damned prankster never stuck around to take responsibility for the trouble he caused. Though, as Hakuba had to reluctantly admit, it had been his own choice to pinch Kudo's cheeks. Inspector Nakamori's brash idiocy was clearly contagious. That was the only explanation for Hakuba's lapse in decorum.

"Um, is there something I'm missing?"

It was Kuroba Three. Apparently, his name was Okita, and he was the star kendo player from Kyoto High. The Kansai-ben suddenly made sense.

Hakuba just sighed and placed his palm against his forehead. What was the probability? This had to be a scientific paradox. There was no way that three people could look so identical, not be related at all, yet somehow all be at the same place at the same time. Either that or the universe had decided it was Hate on Hakuba Saguru Day.

Next time, he thought he would just ignore the mystery of the multiple Kurobas. That was one case best left unsolved.

* * *

 **OMAKE**

* * *

Kaitou Kid grinned as he exited the Kyoto mansion. He could still hear the party guests trying to recover from the heist that had just taken place, intermingled with shouts from the police. Not that they would ever find him. His disguise was perfect.

"Thank you, Okita-san," Kid said, tucking the priceless jewel inside his pocket.

Look-alikes really did come in handy.


	6. In Which Shinichi Plays Sardines

This story was written for **Poirot Café's** _Super Short Contest #8: Silence_ **.** Enjoy!

* * *

 **In Which Shinichi Plays Sardines**

Worse things could have happened, Shinichi supposed. A bullet to the head, for one. He should be happy he'd found the box, small and inconspicuous as it was. Too small for an adult to fit. Too small for Vodka and Gin to check.

Except someone was already hiding inside.

Shinichi only had time to catch a glimpse of a hunched figure before a hand clamped over his mouth, dragging him in the box and closing the lid on top of them. Scratch his previous assessment. The box _could_ fit an adult—if the person was an excellent contortionist. Shinichi didn't know how his child body managed to fit in there as well. Not that 'fit' was the best choice of word. Shinichi's face was mushed against the lid, and there were a lot of bony points and metal digging into him. He couldn't even tell where his body stopped and the other's began, but it did let him figure out the person was male. Not even Sera had a chest that flat.

Shinichi made a muffled sound against the person's hand, telling him to let go. The detective got a hissed "shh" for his efforts. Footsteps sounded outside a second later. Both of the figures wedged in the box sucked in a small breath, holding it as they waited to see if their hiding place would be discovered.

"No one's here, Aniki," Vodka observed.

"Check again," Gin said. There was the sound of bullets being loaded into a gun. "The Kudo brat can't have got far."

Shinichi tensed. Kudo?

"I still don't know how he got out of those chains," Vodka muttered. "Little bastard is slipperier than I thought."

"More like a cockroach that won't die." The smell of smoke filtered through the cracks in the box. Gin had lit up a cigarette. "Well, it works in our favour. If the Boss is right, that kid has the answers we need."

Vodka grunted.

Shinichi's heart thudded as he struggled to breathe in the tiny hiding space. Just what the hell was going on? He still looked like Conan right now. Kudo should have never entered the equation. And what was that crap about him escaping chains? All Shinichi had done was follow Gin's Porsche into the warehouse, attempted a little sleuthing, and then got shot at when he'd accidentally knocked a crate. No one had even seen him properly.

The sound of footsteps got closer. Light shifted. Someone was standing in front of their hiding place. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Shinichi remained impossibly still, his teeth clenched.

 _Don't open it, don't open it._

The words were a chant in his mind. He could tell from the heartbeat wildly beating against his back that his companion was just as tense. For a long moment they waited like that, squashed and running out of oxygen. Then the click-clacking of footsteps moved again.

"Keep looking," Gin ordered. "We can't afford to let him go."

Shinichi listened to the two men's voices fade. Neither he nor his hiding partner moved.

 _Crap, I'm getting light-headed._

Shinichi blinked past his dizziness. He couldn't help but remember that the last time he'd hidden like this he'd ended up passing out inside the locker. That was an experience he'd rather not repeat. Time to get out while he still had a chance.

"Let go," Shinichi said, though it came out more like "umpho".

The person complied and raised the lid of the box, careful to make as little noise as possible. Shinichi awkwardly tried to extricate himself, but it was a bit hard when they were so wedged in together. There was a tsking noise from behind him, and then fingers latched onto his collar and Shinichi got deposited on the ground. He turned just in time to see his companion perform a graceful, unravelling-like twist to stand up out of the box.

His companion who looked a lot like Kudo Shinichi.

Shinichi's eyes widened. "The hell?"

The messy-haired teen frowned at Conan. "I should probably be the one saying that, but whatever. Escape now. Talk later."

His hand latched onto Shinichi's collar again, dragging the boy towards the window tucked away in the far corner of the room. It was too high for anyone to reach—or, at least, that was Shinichi's first impression until the Kudo-look-alike picked him up, ordered him to hold on tight, and then scaled the wall in an impressive display of ninja-like acrobatics. The window turned out to be bolted shut with a padlock, but this didn't deter the teen. He gripped the windowsill with one hand, removed a pin he'd been clenching between his teeth, and then fiddled around with the padlock. Two seconds later the lock came apart and the teen slipped through the window, Shinichi clinging to him like a boy-shaped starfish.

"If you could do that, why did you hide in the box?" Shinichi demanded as they ran side by side.

"Cause Scary One was right behind me and I didn't want to get shot, obviously" the boy retorted. "What the heck were you doing there anyway?"

"Never mind that," Shinichi said impatiently. "What did those guys want with you?"

"The hell should I know? It wasn't even me they wanted. They mistook me for a detective named Kudo Shinichi." The teen's voice soured. "Just my luck to share the same face as someone with a hoard of psychos after him."

Shinichi bit his lip. "Yeah … that would be really awkward."

No need to disclose that _he_ was the real Kudo Shinichi. He'd better change the subject.

"Still, that was really impressive what you did back there," Shinichi said, plastering on an expression of child-like enthusiasm. "You could give even Kaitou Kid a run for his money."

The teen laughed. "You don't say? Perhaps I should pit my skills against him sometime."

Shinichi frowned at the mischief dancing in the older boy's eyes. Somehow, he got the feeling he wasn't the only one hoarding secrets.


	7. In Which Kudo Meets Skywalker (kind of)

So, even though I was aware Shinichi's birthday is in May, it was only today that I discovered it's May the _4th_. What you are about to read is the result of that epiphany. I was gonna wait until Shin-chan's official birthday to post this, but what the heck. Here's a (very) early birthday gift for you to enjoy on behalf of our favourite shrunken detective. ;)

(Note: Major spoilers in here for _Star Wars_ movies IV, V, VI, and VII)

* * *

 **In Which Kudo Meets Skywalker (Kind Of)**

Shinichi was not sure why Ran was wearing a metal bikini. It wasn't that he _minded_ per se, for the outfit left very little to the imagination and got all the blood descending to his nether regions. Still, he was confused. Especially since she kept calling him Kudowalker-san.

"Kudowalker-san, we must hurry!" Ran exclaimed, grabbing his wrist.

Shinichi stumbled and got dragged along by his friend. "Ah, Ran, I'm not sure what's going on here, but—"

"Hohoho." Professor Agasa suddenly appeared beside him. Floating. "Help you, perhaps I can with that."

Shinichi froze. A floating professor wasn't exactly the strangest thing he had witnessed. No, what was confusing was that Agasa's skin had been painted green and he was wearing a bathrobe. He also had long, pointy ears.

"Er, Professor?" Shinichi said cautiously. "Is there some kind of costume party going on that I don't know about?"

Agasa chuckled. "Young padawan, much confused you seem. Come to give you wisdom, I have."

Shinichi's expression went flat. "Very funny."

Like he really needed wisdom from the man who spoke in puns. Also, why the heck had the professor started speaking in Ye Old grammar? None of this made sense, and that made Shinichi frustrated. He was used to his world being logical and predictable. Right now, it felt like he'd fallen down Alice's rabbit hole.

And Ran was really distracting in that bikini.

"Look," Shinichi began, "I just—"

"Kudowalker-san!"

Kid swept in on a weird two-man hand glider. Except Kid was wearing some kind of black trousers and vest combo instead of his usual magician attire, and he wasn't even trying to hide his face. A hairy thing accompanied Kid. There was a toy crossbow slung over the hairy thing's shoulder.

"Kid!" Shinichi exclaimed. "Please, tell me you're normal!"

Kid raised his eyebrow. "It's Kid Solo. And of course I'm normal."

"Kid Solo?" Shinichi repeated. He frowned at the tall, hairy thing, only to realise it was an old man wearing an animal suit. "Uh …"

"This is Ji wookie-chan," Kid said carelessly. "Don't you remember?"

No, Shinichi did not remember. Because everything these people said was nonsense, and it was obvious to him that the whole world had gone mad. The truth of this statement hit home when Kid called Ran "princess" and asked her if she was ready for their date. Apparently, they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Oh, and (spoiler alert) Ran was actually Shinichi's sister.

"W-what?" Shinichi spluttered. "Ran is _not_ my sister!"

Cause that just made the whole ogling Ran in a metal bikini thing hella awkward. Not to mention incestuous.

"Sorry, Kudowalker-san," Kid said with false-sympathy. "I'm afraid you don't get the girl in this universe. You do get to enjoy some quality bonding time with old Bathrobe-chan over there, though." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the professor.

Professor Agasa waved (still floating) and asked if Shinichi wanted to do some training. He had a great routine set up that involved piggy-back rides. A muscle twitched in Shinichi's jaw. It took all he had not to scream in frustration. Ran must have sensed his distress, because she placed her hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, Kudowalker-san," she said with a smile. "I'll always love you like a brother."

Shinichi collapsed to his knees. "Noooooooooooooo!" he exclaimed, raising his clenched fists to the air.

This was too much. It was just evil, horrible—worse than what the Black Organisation could have done to him. Shinichi refused to accept it.

He was still bemoaning his fate when a bullet whizzed past him, almost nicking him in the cheek. Shinichi swore and threw himself to the ground. "What the hell?"

"Oh no!" Ran exclaimed. "It's Bobba-Gin, and he's got his jetpack!"

Shinichi blinked. "Jetpack? I'm pretty sure that's just Vodka wearing a cardboard cut-out." The furrow on his brow deepened. "Also, Bobba-Gin?"

"Bounty hunter!" Kid Sol—gah, Kid—explained. "And on that note, we'd better run."

Shinichi sighed and got to his feet. He wasn't sure he found this new version of Gin and Vodka particularly intimidating (Gin looked like a Power Ranger gone rusty, and Vodka was … well, wearing a cardboard cut-out that looked like a jetpack, riding piggy-back style on Gin's back, and making whooshing noises as if to imitate the sound of thrusters). Then again, the gun was real enough so …

Yeah, time to run.

They dashed through some kind of city floating in the air, chased all the while by the bounty hunter. Shinichi wasn't too worried—until they turned a corner and found themselves surrounded by armoured soldiers and some guy dressed in black with respiratory problems. It seemed that Bobba-Gin and his "jetpack" had been herding Shinichi and the others to this area of the city.

"It's a trap!"

Shinichi let out a yelp. Mitsuhiko had just appeared out of nowhere to state the obvious. And looked like a fish.

"What the hell is going on?" Shinichi wailed, clutching at his hair.

He was going mad. He was absolutely going mad.

"Kudowalker-san," the guy in black said, stepping forward (and making lots of a "koookuuu" sounds). "There's something I must tell you. But I must warn you, this is a big spoiler."

Shinichi dragged his hands down his face, unable even to dredge the energy to get exasperated. "What?" he said shortly.

Respiratory Problems looked him in the eye (well, as much as he could wearing a bucket on his head). "I am your father."

Shinichi just stared at the man. "Yeah, okay."

Respiratory Problems did a double-take. "That's it? I, Darth Yusako, tell you I'm your father, and all you can say is 'yeah, okay'?" He tsked and shook his head. "Teenagers."

Shinichi folded his arms across his chest. "Whatever. Either you're all crazy or I've gone crazy. There's no point trying to make sense of this anymore."

"A good point, you do make," Professor Agasa said, rubbing his green chin. "Now that I think about it, not quite right this all seems. Perhaps the time warp that has had an alternate 'you' trying to solve crimes as a first grader for the last twenty years has also had an effect here. Fix that, I had better."

He whipped out a giant remote control with the words "MODERNIFY" on it. The red button was pushed, and then everything started transforming. Ran got old, all of the villains disappeared, Kid got a makeover (he was now wearing a brown leather jacket). Oh, and Shinichi got boobs.

"The hell?" Shinichi exclaimed with a hysterical edge to his voice. "Why am I a girl?"

Agasa smiled, also suddenly female. Only now he—she—had yellow skin and was wearing goggles. "Kudorey-chan, it is time for you to become a Jedi."

"Huh?"

"You must learn to use the force."

"The what?" Shinichi groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. "You know what, never mind. I don't even want to know."

"Yo."

He lowered his hands to see Hattori smile and wave at him. "Oh, thank the gods," Shinichi muttered, moving towards his friend. "Hattori, you have to get me out of this place. I've been turned into a female, and—"

"Er, the name is Finntori," Hattori cut in. "Oh, and I think I might be your love interest."

Shinichi paled. "M-my what?"

Kid thrust himself between them, placing his hand on Hattori's chest and pushing the boy behind him so he was out of Shinichi's sight. "Hold up," Kid said, poking Shinichi in the ribs, "the Land of Fangirls say that Finntori is _my_ love interest. I will not let you get in the way of our budding bromance, Kudorey."

Shinichi blinked. Then he blinked some more. "Yeah," he finally managed to say. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"If we're talking of love interests," a bored, far-too familiar voice observed from behind Shinichi, "I'm pretty much the fanon favourite."

Shinichi turned and found himself facing a male, rather emo-looking version of Haibara Ai.

"Kylo Sherry!" Kid and Finntori exclaimed in unified horror.

Haibara, or Kylo Sherry, smiled and examined her—his—fingernails. "By the way, Princess Ran is my mum."

Shinichi once again fell to his knees. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he screamed.

And promptly woke up.

The sound of Mouri Kogoro snoring was like a chainsaw in Shinichi's ears. He let out a relieved sigh. He was the size of a first grader, he lived with his best friend and her dad, he still had no means of returning to his teenage body, BUT—and this was the most important thing—he did not have boobs. Hattori was not his love interest. Ran was not his sister (or Haibara's mother, for that matter), and his dad (as far as he knew) had not developed respiratory problems or a penchant for wearing buckets on his head.

In short, all was normal.

Shinichi's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and saw it was a message from Ran.

"Happy birthday, Shinichi," the message read. "May the fourth be with you."

Well, Shinichi amended. Everything was _almost_ normal.


	8. Of Lawbreaking and Matchmaking

This was written for _**Poirot Café's**_ "Prompt Exchange #3". Prompt is listed at the end.

* * *

 **Of Lawbreaking and Matchmaking**

Vermouth was impressed. The red RX-7 was doing well to keep up with her motorbike. Perhaps a little too well. Even ducking through an alley had only resulted in the Mazda ramping onto two wheels, scraping down the path at a ninety degree angle, and then righting itself again once they got back onto the wider road. It seemed that the driver was determined to catch her.

"Persistent little gnat," Vermouth muttered.

The wailing siren stuck on top of the RX-7 was getting louder. Or maybe that was just wailing. Something was screeching anyway, and it was damn annoying. Vermouth glanced through the mirror on her motorbike and noted that the car was gaining on her a bit too fast for her comfort. Her eyes narrowed. Time for Plan B.

She swung the motorbike around and skidded to a halt. A second later the car slammed on its breaks and a woman with short, dark hair got out of the driver's side, holding up a police detective badge. Ah, so it was that officer. What was her name again? Sato Miwako. Twenty-eight years old. Had some trouble with romantic suitors.

Vermouth's mouth curved into a faint smile. Well, well.

"Step away from the motorbike!" Officer Sato ordered.

Vermouth did as asked, smiling all the while behind the darkened visor of her helmet. Sato began listing her crimes (driving well over the speed limit, breaking a tonne of other traffic laws, and refusing to stop for a police officer when signalled to pull over). All very bad things. All deserving some rather nasty consequences.

"Did I really do all that?" Vermouth said in mock dismay. "Oh dear. And here I thought we were just enjoying a nice drive together."

Sato was not impressed. She approached with handcuffs, preparing to carry out protocol. Vermouth's eyes glinted behind her helmet. She waited until Sato got close enough, and then she _moved._ Her fingers latched onto the officer's wrist and she tugged, intending to use the momentum of surprise to knock Sato to the ground. What she got was a mirrored grip on her own wrist and a foot looping around her ankle.

Vermouth's eyes widened. She quickly slipped out of the trap, readjusting her footing before she could get tripped. A fist came for her face. She ducked and followed up with an uppercut. Air caressed her skin as her knuckles brushed past Sato's cheek, not quite making contact. Vermouth's lips tightened.

"Not bad," she observed.

Sato just growled and lunged for the blonde. Vermouth side-stepped the attack, then whipped out her handgun.

"Uh-uh," she scolded, aiming the barrel at Sato's head. "I think that's enough playing around."

Sato swallowed. Vermouth could see the officer's fingers twitching for the revolver that was barely concealed by the hem of her jacket, but Sato did not draw the gun. They both knew it was too late for that.

Vermouth considered the woman before her with assessing eyes. It would be easy enough to kill the police officer. She knew plenty of techniques to get away with murder without leaving a trace of her own presence. Oddly, though, all Vermouth could think was that this woman was one of Cool Guy's friends. Once, while disguised as Doctor Araide, she had even helped Sato to escape an unwanted engagement.

 _Cool Guy._

Vermouth let out a breath. Then she brought the handle of the gun down hard on Sato's temple. There was a sickening thwack as metal collided with bone. The officer swayed and then slumped to the ground, like a puppet who had lost its strings. Sato did not stir.

"Sweet dreams," Vermouth said, blowing the woman a kiss.

She walked back to her motorbike and started up the engine. There was no need to kill the officer. Sato had never seen her face; the helmet had made sure of that. Besides, even Vermouth could appreciate a bit of romance. She didn't want to see Cool Guy's matchmaking efforts go to waste. Not after she had gone through all the trouble to assist the boy in order to bring the hapless Sato and Takagi together.

Vermouth chuckled softly to herself. "Sometimes even the evil queen likes a happy ending."

* * *

 **Prompt:** Sato catches Yukiko and/or Vermouth breaking several traffic laws.

 **Word count:** 702


	9. With Clipped Wings

This was written for **Poirot Café's** Themed Writing Competition #21: Ice. I'm following the manga-verse for this one, so Kid has never openly acknowledged that he knows Shinichi is Conan, etc.

* * *

 **With Clipped Wings**

The ice was probably what saved him.

Kaito's foot skidded on the slippery surface. He lurched. The bullet that would have buried itself into his forehead clipped his scalp instead. The second shot had been aimed for his heart, but it was thrown off course thanks to the curving motion of his body. Not far enough. Pain ricocheted through his nerves with the searing touch of a hot poker. He'd been hit.

"Kid!"

A child shouted his alter-ego's name. Kaito wanted to laugh—a tired, hysterical laugh—because of course the little detective would track him here, and he was still falling, and—

His head hit the ground with a sickening crack. Stars and black splotches swarmed before his eyes. Blood welled from his wounds and spilled in scarlet rivulets. The colour looked striking against the moonlit cloth he donned: a stain of life-giving red to strip away his phantom thief immortality.

"Kid!" Tiny hands grabbed at his shoulders, slapped his cheek. "Kid! Oi, snap out of it!"

Kaito blinked past the black haze that clouded his vision. There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate.

The child—no, detective—swore under his breath. Then the ringing sound became a roar, and the world ceased to exist. Kaito had passed out.

 **X**

"Mind his head."

Kaito sucked in a breath. He was aware of a strange sense of weightlessness, though mostly he just felt pain. So much pain. It tugged at him, trying to pull him back into the numbing embrace of unconsciousness. Hands shifted, readjusting to get a better grip on his back and legs. His eyelashes fluttered and he got a glimpse of pale-brown hair and glasses. Someone was carrying him. The man eased Kaito's body onto the back seat of a car. At least, Kaito thought it was a car. His vision kept swarming with fuzzy clouds.

"He's losing a lot of blood," someone observed from behind the man. "He needs to go to a hospital."

"No," Kaito tried to protest, except all that came out was a slurred, moan-like sound. "No hospitals."

"Let's just worry about getting him out of here first. It'll be bad if—"

The voices faded in and out. Kaito struggled to stay afloat of the darkness that closed in on him, but it was like trying to hold water in cupped hands. Snatches of conversation wove into the haze—words that should have made him sweat in panic, but just drifted through in a detached collection of sounds. It was so hard to focus.

"How's he doing back there?"

It was the deep voice again. The one Kaito thought might belong to the man with the brown hair and glasses.

"Not good." That sounded like detective-kun. "The head wound is superficial. It just looks worse because there's a lot of blood. It's the one on his chest I'm worried about."

"I told you we should have taken him to a hospital." Female. Grumpy. "He's going to bleed out at this rate."

"Haibara, couldn't you—"

"I'm a scientist, not a doctor."

Detective-kun swore. He seemed to be doing that a lot. Deep Voice-san said something, but the words sounded distant, almost garbled. Kaito struggled to keep hold of the conversation. There was something important that he was forgetting, but the voices slipped from his grasp, and his consciousness slipped along with them.

The next time Kaito opened his eyes, he was lying on a bed and there was a woman leaning over him. The chin-length hair seemed familiar. "Kaa-san?" he murmured.

The woman started at the sound of his voice. No, not his mother. Not even an adult woman. She was tiny, with reddish-blonde hair and blue eyes. A crease formed on his brow, but the ringing noise was in his ears again—a monotonous B flat that just would not _stop_. His vision clouded. Thoughts scattered like string tossed into the wind. He was floating, or falling, or maybe both at once. The pain was making him disoriented. It was only the voices that pulled him back to reality, tethering him to the sounds of the familiar.

"He looks just like you," the female from earlier observed.

"I noticed." Childish. Male. Had to be detective-kun. "Subaru-san says he has a slight concussion. We shouldn't let him sleep too long."

"He woke up before."

"What? Did he say anything? How was he?"

"Drugged up on painkillers," she said flatly. "He thought I was his mother."

"That's kind of terrifying."

"Hrm?"

"The idea of you being anyone's mother, I mean."

"Shut up, Kudo-kun."

The boy laughed. Kaito felt his tether unravel from the conversation, leaving him drifting back in a limbo-like state of nothing. Images flittered behind his closed eyelids in bursts of colour: a street surrounded by high-rise buildings, a sheen of black ice on the pavement, blood spilling in a warm, pulsating flow. The pieces came together like a puzzle, reminding him that he had been shot and that he was now in a very, very bad situation.

Kaito groaned. His eyelashes fluttered open, and he found himself staring at a white ceiling. The ringing in his ears had stopped, though his head throbbed and ached something terrible. He brushed his fingers against his forehead and felt soft fabric. A bandage. Someone had removed his Kaitou Kid outfit. His chest was bare and wrapped in gauze, covering the bullet wound that was far too close to his heart for comfort. Judging from the pinched, cat-hanging-from-his-chest-with-claws feel, someone had also stitched him up.

Jii-chan was right. He should have worn the bulletproof vest.

"How are you feeling?"

Kaito jumped at the voice. The little detective stood propped against the wall near the open door, watching him through far too sharp eyes. Kaito was conscious of the fact that he was not wearing his top hat or monocle. He had been stripped bare, reduced to a scruffy-haired teen with a bandage on his head. Poker face hadn't deserted him, though.

"I've felt better," Kaito said evenly.

There was a moment where the two boys stared at each other. Kaito's gaze darted to the window—a split-second to make a decision—and then he was diving for escape. Or, at least, that had been the plan. Reality didn't quite work out in his favour. His legs wobbled and his vision blurred as soon as his feet hit the ground. He wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or the sudden motion that sent a shock of pain through his nervous system; either way, Kaito fell to his knees.

"Subaru-san!"

There was the sound of rushing footstep. Strong arms lifted Kaito's crumpled form and placed him back on the bed. The teen was not surprised to discover that the owner of said arms was the same brown-haired man who had carried him earlier. Not far from Subaru, he saw the girl with reddish-blonde hair frowning at him. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Are you trying to undo all our work?" she scolded. "You better not have opened up those stitches."

Kaito let out a huff of breath and dropped his head back against the pillow. And winced. That's right, there was a tender lump the size of detective-kun's face on the back of his head. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it felt that big. He bit back a hiss of pain.

"Kid," the tiny detective began, "you—"

"Enough," Kaito said shortly. "Just tell me what you want."

He knew it was rude to interrupt someone while they were speaking, but Kaito was tired and sore, and right now he felt very vulnerable and exposed. That made him afraid, and fear made him irritable. So, instead of letting the detective continue, he decided to go on the offensive. Just because he was weakened didn't mean that he was harmless. Kaitou Kid's most dangerous weapon had always been his intelligence.

Kaito sat up, ignoring the sharp aches that throbbed through him from the motion. "Are you hoping to blackmail me?" he asked, meeting the detective's gaze. "I wouldn't if I were you. I've got hidden aces of my own, you know." He bared his teeth in a smile. "Like the fact that Edogawa Conan is just a fabrication: your real identity is Kudo Shinichi, and you're currently hiding from a criminal organisation." He pointed to Haibara. "That girl has also been de-aged and is the woman you got me to disguise as on the Mystery Train."

The colour drained from Haibara's face.

"Sherry, wasn't it?" Kaito said softly. "I'm sure they'd be very curious to learn you're still alive. You and Kudo-kun, of course." He moved on before she could react, letting his gaze settle on Subaru. "As for you, I have to admit I don't know who you are, but I do know that you're wearing a mask and are using a voice changer to disguise your identity, so there's clearly something off." Kaito's smile widened as he stared down the three people whose secrets he had just revealed, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Do you want me to go on?"

The small detective stepped forward. "That won't be necessary. You're right that none of us are who we say we are."

Kaito clenched his jaw. "Then you know it's a waste of time to blackmail me. I can cause you just as much damage, if not more."

Detective-kun—no, Kudo Shinichi—let out a small sigh. "Kid, we're not trying to blackmail you."

"All we did was return the favour," Haibara said coolly. "Though now I'm wondering why we bothered."

Kaito blinked. "Favour?"

"You said it before," Subaru said, smiling in a way that reminded Kaito oddly of his father's composed amusement. "You disguised yourself as Sherry on the Mystery Train and confronted Bourbon in her place. Thanks to that, Haibara is alive and was able to escape the Organisation."

"And you've helped me out a few times as well," Kudo admitted. "I would have felt bad if I just left you there to bleed to death or get captured by the police."

Kaito blinked a few more times. The tired, hysterical bubble of laughter was back in his throat. "So, what, this is just some philanthropic act on your part? You save the thief, patch him up, and then let him go—no strings attached?"

Kudo slipped his hands in his pockets, and a faint smile curved his mouth. "Well, I was hoping you would answer some of my questions."

"Of course," Kaito muttered.

"But we won't force you to talk. It's just—" Kudo struggled for a moment, and there was no disguising the worry in his voice. "Kid, you almost died tonight. I saw it all happen. If you hadn't slipped on that ice, the sniper's bullets would have struck true."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Kaito said with a blasé shrug. And winced again. Right. Keep movement to a minimum.

"You mean this isn't the first time someone has targeted you?" Kudo demanded. He sounded angry.

Kaito heaved a sigh. "I give advanced notice of the time and date for when I'm going to steal priceless jewels, so yeah, this isn't the first time someone has decided to take a shot at me during a heist."

"Then why—"

"Because this is the only way!" Kaito snapped. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, do we have to talk about this? My head hurts."

Kudo was not satisfied. He didn't like the fact that Kaito was risking his life just to steal jewels that he always returned. It was reckless and stupid, and maybe that was true. But the detective didn't understand.

"You're using yourself as bait," Subaru deduced.

Kaito closed his eyes. His silence was answer enough.

"So, that's why you give the advanced notice," Kudo said, catching on. "You need the police to turn up because you know there's a chance those guys with guns will be there as well. It's as much a counter-measure to limit the damage they can cause as it is a chance to have the police capture them."

"Something like that," Kaito admitted.

Haibara wasn't impressed. She told him that only a fool would try to take on dangerous criminals alone. He was as bad as Kudo-kun, rushing headlong into danger on some stupid quest to restore justice and thinking that he was invincible.

Kaito laughed softly. "Maybe I did think I was invincible," he said more to himself.

Perhaps this whole time he'd just been walking on thin ice, not even noticing that the cracks were spreading under his feet. So many times he could have died. So many times he had miraculously pulled through. Failure had never seemed like an option before, but now he wasn't so sure. If he hadn't slipped in that moment, if Kudo hadn't saved him; it was a harsh awakening to the fragility of his own life. And yet—

"Does it really matter, though?" Kaito voiced.

Kudo glanced down at his hands, his expression pensive. Of course the shrunken detective would understand. Subaru did as well, if that wry smile was anything to go by. Even Haibara fell silent. It was what united them, after all: four people hiding behind false identities, four people risking their lives to do what they believed to be necessary.

"Plus," Kaito added with a hint of his usual mischief, "stealing jewels is actually kind of fun."

The grim mood was shattered. Subaru's mouth twitched, Kudo looked like he didn't know whether to face-palm or laugh, and Haibara just rolled her eyes.

"Definitely crazy," she decided.

Kaito grinned.

Much later, when Kaito had recovered enough to make his escape without anyone noticing, he asked himself if perhaps he should have told them more: about Pandora, Snake, and the true goal of Kaitou Kid. It was obvious they were curious. Kudo had certainly tried to prise the answers out of him. However, Kaito was not the type to freely share his secrets, no matter how indebted he was to his rescuers. That was why he'd offered a challenge instead.

" _Can we at least know your name?" Kudo asked._

 _Kaito leaned forward. "You're the detective," he said, flicking the shrunken teen in his forehead. "You figure it out."_

A smile curved Kaito's mouth. He turned away from the Western-styled house and carried on walking down the street, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn't know if he could be considered lucky or unlucky after what had occurred tonight. Maybe he really was just walking on thin ice, waiting for the inevitable fall. It didn't make a difference. Clipped wings or not, he would keep going, keep fighting, and he knew that Kudo would as well.

"I'll be waiting for you, meitantei," Kaito murmured.


	10. In Which There Are Doubles

This was written as a gift for Hebiaczek to celebrate reaching 100 reviews for _Switched_. Hebiaczek's prompt was "Kaito meets Vermouth". Hope you enjoy, Hebiaczek, and congrats for being the 100th reviewer! :)

* * *

 **In Which There Are Doubles**

Hayashi Rin was an ordinary man. Except right now he wasn't.

Hayashi Rin was not supposed to be attending the party tonight. Except he was.

Kuroba Kaito was confused, because he was currently dressed up as Hayashi Rin, and there was a man who looked just like the balding forty-year-old standing opposite the drinks table.

It took Kaito a split-second to check through the information he had collected about his disguise. Hayashi did not have a twin. In fact, Hayashi did not have any living relatives. He was a quiet, unassuming man: wealthy, no partner or spouse, and liked to attend charity events. That was what made him the perfect person to utilise for this little reconnaissance mission. No one would notice or care that the real Hayashi never made it out of his house. Or, at least, _should_ not have made it out of the house. There was only one explanation for why Kaito was staring at Hayashi Rin.

 _I'm so screwed._

Kaito allowed himself the pessimistic thought—if only for a second. Poker face was still in play, and he had always been good at improvising. Time to see if he could salvage the situation.

The other Hayashi had got over his initial shock at seeing a double of his own face and was now moving towards Kaito. Perfect. All Kaito had to do was get close enough to the man to slip him a sleeping tranquiliser and then it was just a matter of hiding the "evidence" in a closet for a while until he no longer needed the disguise. So he did not shy away from Hayashi; instead, he looped his arm around the man's shoulder, even as a tiny syringe slipped into his palm from the hidden folds of his sleeve.

"Excuse me—" Kaito began, and then froze.

The quick hand movements, the tiny flash of metal. Kaito's eyes had always been good, and it had him jumping back from Hayashi like a startled cat. The fact that the other man did the same was a small consolation. Both of them were holding syringes. Both of them had attempted to jab the other with a needle.

Kaito's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

"Well, I'm not Hayashi Rin," the fake Hayashi said calmly. "Then again, neither are you."

Kaito smiled in acknowledgement.

"I'm afraid there isn't room for two of us at this party," the fake said. "Will you give up your disguise, Kaitou Kid?"

Kaito's smile widened into a Cheshire Cat grin. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private."

The fake agreed and followed him through the backdoor and up the stairs to the roof. Kaito kept his guard up, not keen to get stabbed in the back—metaphorically or literally—though he got the sense his double was more curious than anything. He didn't get the same vibe of vicious antagonism that drenched the likes of Snake.

"So," Kaito said, turning around to face the fake Hayashi, and speaking in his normal voice. "You figured me out."

"Your signature is all over the disguise," the fake said with an offhand shrug. "There are few who can pull off such perfection."

"You did," Kaito pointed out.

"I learnt from the best."

Kaito was intrigued. There was something about the words that suggested a deeper meaning, as if the fake was trying to prompt him into reaching an epiphany. The problem was that Kaito had no foundation upon which to build his speculations; he didn't know of anyone else who could disguise like him except perhaps Kudo Shinichi's mother, but she wasn't quite up to his standard. Close, but not perfect. The same could be said of his own mother. His disguised companion seemed to understand his confusion, because a smile spread across the plain features of Hayashi Rin.

"You still haven't figured it out?" the fake taunted, but this time the person spoke in a smooth, feminine voice.

A voice that Kaito recalled with perfect recollection thanks to his eidetic memory.

"Sharon-san?" he breathed in surprise, taking a step forward.

In his head, he could envision the woman with the long, wavy blond hair who had used to meet with his father. She didn't remove her mask, but he could almost see the pretty features hidden behind Hayashi Rin's face, captured in the expressions that were entirely Sharon Vineyard's. The arched eyebrow, the faint smile hovering at her mouth; it was decidedly Sharon, and it left him reeling.

"You're supposed to be dead," he said, shocked out of his poker face.

Sharon's smile widened a fraction. "I could say the same to you."

Right. She must have figured out that Kuroba Toichi was the original Kaito Kid, but then—

"Except you're not the man I knew, are you?" Sharon continued in that soft, mocking tone. "The stance and voice are all wrong. I suspect it's because it would only upset you to truly take on the original character of Kaitou Kid."

Kaito sucked in a breath.

She stepped closer. "Yet you did recognise me."

Beads of sweat formed on his brow, hidden beneath the mask he was now very grateful to be wearing. "You are a famous actress," he said, piecing his poker face together. "Is it really much of a surprise that I recognised your voice?"

Her eyes glinted. "After only hearing me speak once?" She placed her hand on his shoulder, moving closer so that she was whispering in his ear. "Don't take me for a fool. The fact that you are carrying on the mantle of Kaitou Kid suggests you were close to Kuroba Toichi. I know that old assistant could never pull off such a disguise, and Chikage-san is in America. Which just leaves you." She pulled back and met his gaze. "Isn't that right, Kaito-kun?"

His heart thudded against his ribs. He swallowed, resisting the urge to make a run for it. That would only confirm her suspicions.

Kaito forced a smile to his lips. "One phantom to another? You have your reasons for faking your death, and I have my reasons for reviving Kaitou Kid. I suggest we just leave it at that."

Sharon arched her eyebrow. "A deal, then?"

"It would work in both our favour," Kaito pointed out. "I leave you alone, you leave me alone." His smile took on a razor edge. "Unless you'd like me to go digging?"

A laugh escaped her lips. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

"Call it an insurance policy. I have no intention of closing the curtain on my heists just yet, and that means I don't need any skeletons banging in my closet." He met her gaze steadily. "We can part ways now and forget we met, but push me and I will push back. It's your choice."

Sharon considered him through piercing eyes that even the contacts could not disguise. Kaito was conscious of the sweat dampening the back of his neck, but at least his poker face had remained intact. His expression was calm and disarmingly at ease, not showing a hint of how nervous he actually felt.

"Very well," she said. "It's a deal."

Kaito resisted the urge to let out a breath. Instead, he pulled off his disguise in a whirl of cloth, leaving himself standing before her in moonlit white, complete with top hat and monocle. He bowed to her with a graceful sweep of his arm.

"Then have an enjoyable time at the party, Hayashi-san," Kaito said, and then he vanished in a cloud of smoke.

He had to resort to Plan C to carry out the rest of his plan for setting up his heist, having lost the advantage of his disguise, but at least there were no gate-crashing police. Sharon did not pursue him either, and he stuck true to his word by not shadowing her. It was only later—quite by accident, might he add, thanks to the machinations of a certain tiny detective—that he discovered Sharon Vineyard had quite a few alter-egos of her own. Most significantly, the codename Vermouth. Still, a deal was a deal, and since she had never broken her end of the bargain, he chose not to break his either.

But the warning did remain. If she ever did push him, he would push right back. Hard.


	11. Hakuba's Secret

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Prompt Exchange 4. The prompt was "Hakuba's secret. Have fun." I hope you enjoy my interpretation, Mystery Prompter.

* * *

 **Hakuba's Secret**

"Don't you think Hakuba-kun has been acting strangely?"

Kaito leaned on the back two legs of his chair, meeting Aoko's expectant look with a bored expression. "I can't say I care what that bast—"

"Kaito!"

"That _detective_ ," Kaito corrected, though he didn't sound the least bit apologetic, "has been doing."

"Well, I do," Aoko retorted, raising her chin. "And you should as well, since he's your friend."

"He's not my friend."

"Then why do you have his number on your phone?"

"Because _someone_ —" and here he gave a flat stare at Aoko "—gave him my number, and Hakuba enjoys calling me when I least expect it. At least with him saved as my contact, I can see his name to reject his calls with Caller ID."

She muttered something under her breath, though he only caught the words "idiot" and "so stubborn". Kaito ignored the unflattering remarks. He had no intention of giving Aoko an opening to begin another of her "Fix Your Attitude" rants. Mostly, he just wondered why, of all the teenagers in the school, she had to take a liking to the one person who had the potential to blow his secret about being Kaitou Kid, not to mention had sworn to capture him.

Actually, it wasn't all that surprising. Aoko hated Kid. She had even come up with the Kid Capture Brigade, which she had somehow forced Kaito into joining. Oh, and did he mention that Akako and Hakuba were part of the group? As if having a detective nosing around his business wasn't bad enough. No, Aoko had to go and make friends with the witch who wanted to enslave him as her lover as well.

Somehow, he thought it was typical of his childhood friend. She had a knack for making his life complicated.

"Kaito, are you even listening to me?" Aoko demanded.

"Sure, sure," Kaito said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "You're worried about Hakuba. Don't know why, since he was never normal to begin with, but—"

Aoko smacked Kaito on the head with her textbook, almost making him lose his balance on the precariously perched chair. He swung forward so that all four legs of the chair were flat on the floor and shot her a betrayed expression.

"What was that for?" he demanded, rubbing his head.

"You know what it was for," she said darkly. "Hakuba-kun _is_ our friend, whether you want to admit it or not." Her voice softened. "Plus, I really am worried. Hakuba-kun has been so secretive lately. It's not like him."

"Secretive?"

Kaito perked up despite his best attempts to remain disinterested. Secrets to him were like shiny things to a magpie; he couldn't help but be intrigued. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. Akako must have overheard their conversation and slinked over to stand behind Kaito, one hand resting on the back of his chair.

"What's going on?" Akako asked.

Aoko explained that she thought Hakuba was keeping a secret from them, because he was always going off on his own and avoided her questions when she asked him about it. He had even stopped getting picked up after school by that old lady who seemed to drive him around everywhere.

Akako made a thoughtful sound. "I could summon Lucifer and ask him."

There was a pause as Aoko blinked in confusion. "Summon Lucifer?"

The witch seemed to realise what she had said, because she laughed in her "I Swear I'm Not Up to Anything Nefarious" way. Except no one was buying that. "It was a joke," she said for Aoko's benefit. "Lucifer is my, er, cat."

Kaito frowned. It had not sounded like Akako had been kidding. Did she seriously summon the king of demons just to ask for random gossip about her classmates?

"Summoning cats aside," Kaito said, throwing a narrowed glance at Akako, "I doubt that Hakuba is up to anything interesting. He's just some detective otaku who likes to cosplay as Sherlock Holmes. Any secret of his wouldn't be worth investigating."

"That's it!" Aoko declared, springing to her feet.

Kaito blinked. "That's what?"

"We'll just follow Hakuba-kun and find out for ourselves what he's been up to! It's our duty as his fellow members of the Kid Capture Brigade!" Aoko grinned, still raising her fist in the air with a "who's with me?" expression.

Kaito and Akako stared at her blankly.

Aoko's triumphant expression faltered. She lowered her hand. "What?"

"I'm not interested in stalking that detective otaku," Kaito said bluntly.

"I don't see the point in going to such lengths," Akako said with a shrug. "I could probably get Hakuba-kun to tell me his secret just by asking."

Right, because her seduction magic actually worked on the blond.

Aoko pouted. "You really won't help?"

For answer, Kaito picked up his phone and went back to scrolling through news updates. Akako said that she would have a chat to Hakuba herself and returned to her desk. A second later, the witch was surrounded by a circle of boys. Aoko frowned and sat down next to Kaito.

"Do you really think Akako-chan can get Hakuba-kun to tell her his secret?" she asked.

Kaito opened his mouth to say that he didn't care either way, but then Hakuba entered the classroom. The half-Brit looked … off. His hair wasn't perfectly combed into that smarmy style of his, and Kaito's sharp gaze was quick to note the shadows rimming Hakuba's eyes. Even his uniform was a little rumpled.

A crease formed on Kaito's brow. He would never admit it aloud, but there was a part of him—just a tiny part—that actually was concerned about the annoying gnat of a detective. Hakuba Saguru was arrogant, pompous, and so meticulous about details that he liked to keep track of the time right down to the millisecond. Hakuba did not turn up to school looking like he had rolled out of bed, thrown on yesterday's uniform, and even forgot to brush his hair. It was completely out of character. This bothered Kaito.

"How long did you say it's been since Hakuba started acting strangely?" Kaito asked.

Aoko rested her chin on her hands. "About four days, I guess."

Kaito made a humming sound at the back of his throat. Maybe he would try his hand at playing detective after all. Not because he saw Hakuba as his friend or anything. Not really. This was just a matter of restoring normalcy to the universe: one where Aoko wore white panties, chocolate ice cream was delicious, and Hakuba Saguru was an obnoxious detective with perfect hair and clothes that did not have a crease out place.

Yes, it was time for "Operation: Uncover Hakuba's Secret".

 **oOo**

"How's this?"

Kaito rolled his eyes. "Aoko, wearing a hat and a fake moustache is not going to fool anyone, least of all Hakuba." He wrenched the fuzzy strip away from her upper lip, then removed the hat for good measure. "If you want to appear inconspicuous, you need to blend in with the crowd."

Akako smiled from where she leaned against the wall. "Do you have a better disguise for us then, Kuroba-kun?"

He scowled at the witch. "Remind me again why you're here?"

"I invited her," Aoko said, swatting away Kaito's hands when he tried to help her remove the bulky jacket that had been covering her feminine attire.

"Of course you did," Kaito muttered.

He'd heard that Akako had tried to get the truth out of Hakuba during their lunch break. Apparently, the detective had blushed and stammered a lot, but he had not confessed his secret. Instead, he had made a hasty retreat from the witch. Akako must have been piqued enough to pursue the matter. Well, it really made no difference to Kaito, so long as she kept her witch voodoo away from him. The main issue was figuring out a way to follow Hakuba without being noticed.

Sadly, Kaito's own attempts to weasel the truth out of the blond had not met with success. That was why he had allowed himself to be "forced" into joining Aoko on the stalking—sorry, "undercover"—mission after school. She thought him a reluctant tag-along, but the truth was that Kaito had not been able to shake off the odd squirming in his gut ever since his conversation with Hakuba.

" _Everything alright?"_

 _Hakuba glanced up from where he sat tying the laces on his gym shoes. "Why wouldn't it be?"_

 _Maybe because you look like you haven't slept in days._

 _Kaito forced a grin. "Your inability to capture Kaitou Kid isn't getting to you, is it? Maybe you should take the next heist off. "_

 _Hakuba responded with a noncommittal grunt. It was the lack of response which really set off warning bells. Normally, the half-Brit would have shifted into a honey-smooth tone and made a few taunting remarks about Kaito being Kid, or at least declared that he was still going to be the one to capture Kid, blah blah blah. But there had been none of that. Just a half-shrug and a grunt._

 _Kaito leaned forward, staring intently into Hakuba's eyes. "You really are Hakuba, aren't you?"_

 _The blond raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"_

 _For answer, Kaito placed his hand against Hakuba's forehead—and promptly had it swatted away._

" _What are you doing, Kuroba-kun?"_

" _Checking to make sure you don't have a fever," Kaito said mock-serious. "The only other explanation for your lack of obnoxiousness is that you've been abducted by aliens and this is just your doppelganger, or you've been possessed by a spirit who prefers slovenly attire and caveman language."_

 _Hakuba rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "I see you still have yet to mature, Kuroba-kun. Now, if you excuse me, I don't want to be late for gym."_

Those parting words had been the most Hakuba-ish thing the blond had said all day, but the whole experience had left Kaito feeling unnerved. Hakuba wasn't being Hakuba. Kaito didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.

"Kaito?"

The teen blinked and realised that Aoko and Akako were staring at him. Oops, he had zoned out.

"Look, we don't need disguises," Kaito said, trying to get the conversation back on track. "Hakuba isn't an idiot; the best thing to do is just act natural. So, we'll just be three students walking together—" a sideways grin curved his lips "—who just happen to be going in the same direction as Hakuba."

Aoko punched her fist into the air. "Alright, let's do this! Kid Capture Brigade, move out!"

Kaito resisted the urge to facepalm. Aoko. Her idea of "natural" was not going to fly for this mission. Actually, Akako's wasn't either. Every male in the vicinity was already moving towards the beautiful witch, as if drawn to a magnet.

"Think you can tone down the charm," Kaito murmured in Akako's ear. "We can't do subtle if we have the whole male population as your entourage."

Akako covered her mouth as she laughed, sounding far too much like a villain from a bad theatre show. "I can't help it men are attracted to me, Kuroba-kun."

Kaito sighed. Maybe they would need those disguises after all.

 **oOo**

"I can't believe you dressed me as a fat male," Akako grumbled.

"Deal with it," Kaito said shortly. "It was the only way to stop those boys from following you and trying to get your number."

Akako still seemed unhappy, but she stopped complaining nevertheless. Ransacking the Drama department for wigs and other costumes had worked out well—with the aid of Kaito's own disguising skills, of course. Akako was now a chubby teenage boy with glasses, while Kaito and Aoko were "his" very normal-looking friends. As far as anyone could tell, they were just three Ekoda High School students walking home together.

And they were currently following Hakuba.

"I can see him," Aoko whispered. "He's heading into the Seven-Eleven."

"Alright, we're going in," Kaito said. "Remember, act natural."

The two girls nodded, and soon all three of them were joining Hakuba in the convenience store. The blond had not noticed them enter and stood examining a selection of onigiri and bento boxes. Kaito's brow creased. Somehow, he had never pegged Hakuba as the type to buy food from a convenience store. Kaito had always assumed the obaasan prepared Hakuba's meals for him, or maybe even a personal chef. Yet here Hakuba was deciding between beef or pork bento, and whether he should get a tuna onigiri on the side.

"He's just buying food," Aoko said with a pout. Her stomach grumbled. "Well, since we're here, I might pick up a few things for myself."

She moved over to where the hot food was stored. Akako had also given up spying on Hakuba and was busy tormenting a man in his early twenties, who had been perusing the magazines. The poor guy must have got pulled in by her seduction magic, only to be confronted by an overweight teenage boy. Kaito wished the man luck—and not to get too scarred by the experience—and moved closer to his own target.

"Pork or beef," Hakuba murmured, lowering and raising the different bento boxes as if his hands were a pair of scales.

"The beef is pretty good," Kaito offered in a fake voice.

Hakuba glanced up at him in a distracted manner. "Oh? Then I guess I'll try the beef. Thank you."

"No problem."

Kaito watched the blond grab a few more things from the shelves, including cup ramen— _cup ramen_ of all things—and head to the counter. So, Hakuba was definitely buying food that could function as a meal rather than just a snack. Curious.

Kaito joined Aoko near the food warmer. "You said the obaasan hasn't been dropping off Hakuba for school or picking him up for four days, right?" he asked in a low voice.

"Pretty much," she answered, and then held up a curry puff. "Want one?"

He was about to say no, but then his own stomach gave a low grumble. "Ah, maybe just one."

"Okay!"

Aoko got in line behind Hakuba with her collection of snacks. Kaito kept an eye on the half-Brit, collating every detail he could about the taller boy. There was something awfully familiar about this situation. The rumpled clothes, the dark circles under his eyes, the stash of bento boxes and cup ramen.

"I wonder," Kaito murmured, tapping his finger to his chin.

The old lady was the key to this mystery. That, and Hakuba's father.

Hakuba finished paying for his purchases and left the store. Kaito rounded up the girls and the disguised trio were back to tailing the blond down the street. Hakuba stopped outside a laundry service and scribbled down a few details on his pocket notebook, then carried on walking. Kaito's mouth twitched into a smile. If this was a game of Hot and Cold, he was definitely getting warmer.

The next stop was a pet store. Kaito was not so certain about the reasoning for this stop, and actually wondered for a moment if he needed to rethink his theory. There was no practical explanation for why Hakuba had paused to play with puppies. Maybe the blond was investigating the lady behind the counter? Or maybe he had a crush on her? She was kind of cute, Kaito supposed.

Except Hakuba wasn't paying any attention to the woman. He was crouching next to the puppy pen, running his hands along the dogs' sleek fur and letting them lick and nudge their faces against him. Aoko squirmed next to Kaito, as if she were physically holding back from launching herself through the window to join Hakuba.

"They're so cute," she breathed, pressing her hands against the glass. "Oh, look at that little one with the curly tail! Isn't he adorable?"

Akako raised her eyebrow. "You don't even know if it's a 'he'. And I sincerely hope that this fascination for furry things is not Hakuba-kun's secret."

Kaito did as well. It would mean they just wasted their whole day stalking the half-Brit just to watch him play with puppies. "Let's go in," he said.

Aoko made a small sound of glee and rushed through the door. Kaito and Akako followed much more leisurely behind.

"They seem to really like you, Hakuba-kun," the lady behind the counter was saying. "Are you sure you don't want to get a little companion for yourself?"

"I already have Watson," Hakuba said with a shrug. "I admit that these puppies are much friendlier than my hawk, though." He smiled and stood up. "In any case, I had best be going. I really just came to thank you for the other day. Your advice about the trains was very helpful."

"Of course," the employee said, lowering her head in a bow.

Kaito glanced between the two. Hey, hey, wait a moment. Hakuba was already leaving?

"Aoko, come on," he muttered, grabbing the girl by the wrist.

"But—"

Kaito yanked her away from the puppies and out of the pet shop. Akako joined them, grumbling about how she was sick of being a fat male and wanted to take off her disguise.

"By all means, take off the disguise."

Kaito started at the unexpected voice. He would know that smooth yet obnoxious tone anywhere.

"Hakuba," he said, turning to face the detective.

Hakuba stepped out from the shadows. "I thought it was strange when the three students who followed me into the convenience store turned up at the pet shop as well. Now I know why."

Aoko pulled off her wig and mask. "We were just worried about you," she explained. "You've been acting so oddly these past few days, but you kept saying that nothing was wrong when I asked."

Hakuba pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. "So you followed me?"

"It worked, didn't it?" Kaito said, and nodded at the bag of bento boxes and ramen. "That told me everything I needed to know about your big secret."

Hakuba blinked. "Secret? What on earth are you talking about?"

"The one you've been hiding from us," Akako said, now back to her usual, beautiful self. "It's why we followed you today. Seems like Kuroba-kun figured out the truth."

Aoko stared at her childhood friend expectantly. "Kaito?"

"It's really not that special," Kaito admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hakuba here was just embarrassed; that's the only reason he kept it a secret from us." He shrugged. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet, Aoko. You were there when it happened to me after my mum left for America."

A crease formed on her brow. She stared intently at Hakuba, taking in his rumpled appearance and the bag of convenience store food. "A-ha!" she exclaimed, pointing her finger at him. "You don't know how to cook!"

Pink splotches formed on Hakuba's cheeks. "W-what? I—"

"I suspect he hasn't figured out how to use the washing machine and iron either," Kaito mused. "Or maybe he used them wrong and ruined his clothes. One or the other."

Akako nodded in understanding. "So, that's why the old woman is no longer driving him to and from school."

Hakuba opened and closed his mouth a few times. "You—this isn't—"

"Don't worry," Kaito said, slinging his arm around Hakuba's shoulder. "It's okay to struggle the first time you find yourself living on your own."

"It's true," Aoko chipped in, bestowing the detective with a friendly smile. "Kaito almost managed to burn down his house when it happened to him."

Kaito scowled at the girl. "You didn't have to tell him _that."_

"But it's true."

There was a small moment of bickering, broken only by Hakuba shrugging off Kaito's arm and declaring (with very pink cheeks) that they were all wrong. He solved complicated mysteries as a hobby; he was hardly going to be thwarted by something as simple as a washing machine or how to cook a meal, let alone how to get to places without a chauffeur.

"Except your uniform looks like it hasn't been ironed or washed," Kaito pointed out, "and you've bought enough food from the convenience store to last the weekend." He raised one eyebrow. "What happened?"

Hakuba stared at the three of them for a long moment, his cheeks still flushed. Then he just sighed. "Baya has gone to visit some of her relatives; there was a family emergency. Father is out of town on business as well, so—"

"You've been left to fend for yourself," Kaito finished for him.

"Something like that," Hakuba muttered.

Aoko frowned at the taller boy. "Why didn't you just say something? We could have helped."

He raised his shoulder in a half-shrug. "I don't know. I guess Kuroba-kun was right. I was embarrassed. Living on my own until Baya and Father returned should have been a simple thing, but it ended up more difficult than I expected." His blush darkened. "Plus, I didn't realise you would be this concerned about me."

Kaito wasn't sure why the small confession bothered him, but he did know that he liked it best when Hakuba was being Hakuba, obnoxious attitude and all. The distracted, distant Hakuba of today just wasn't any fun. So, Kaito plastered on an air of nonchalance.

"Well, if you do need help with anything," he said, scratching the tip of his nose, "I suppose I could give you a hand. Just until the obaasan comes back, mind you."

Akako smiled in her seductive way. "I'd be happy to offer you any assistance you might need as well, Hakuba-kun."

Hakuba swallowed, taking a step back from the witch. "Uh, thank you."

"And you can always count on me!" Aoko said, nudging him in the side with her elbow.

Kaito leaned closer to the half-Brit. "Don't trust her cooking. You're better with the convenience store bento. Trust me."

He got a kick in the leg from Aoko for that comment, but Hakuba just smiled at the three teens. It was obvious that he was "moved", as the saying went.

"I don't know what to say," Hakuba admitted.

"Then don't say anything," Aoko said with a grin. "I mean, looking out for each other is what friends do, right?"

Akako, Hakuba and Kaito exchanged startled glances. Were they friends? Kaito wasn't sure. The four of them were all part of the Kid Capture Brigade. It was also true that, when one of their own had got into what looked like a spot of trouble, the others had all rallied to his support to make sure that he was okay—even Kaito.

But did that make them friends?

Kaito frowned at the three other members of the Kid Capture Brigade. Akako was laughing and making sly comments, Hakuba was already slipping back into his slightly arrogant manner of speaking (apparently, being "moved" did not mean that he appreciated Aoko's joke about high IQs and his struggle with the washing machine), and Aoko—well, Aoko was being Aoko. Kaito's mouth curved into a smile. Well, regardless of the label they wanted to put on their odd relationship, what mattered was that the universe had been returned to normal. Aoko was still wearing white panties, chocolate ice cream was still delicious, and Hakuba was finally being Hakuba.

Mission accomplished.


	12. Black Mangaka

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Super Short Contest #11: Critic.

* * *

 **Black Mangaka**

The mood was different at headquarters. Gin couldn't place his finger on it, but there was just something … off. Maybe it was the fact that Korn—inexpressive, robot-like Korn—was smiling. Not a full-blown grin, mind you, but there was something unnerving about the upward curve of the sniper's lips. Even Chianti was being suspiciously quiet. Well, quiet for her. She made scoffing sounds from time to time, but was otherwise too caught up with reading the small volume in her hands to be her usual belligerent self.

Actually, Korn seemed to be holding an identical volume. A closer inspection revealed a starry-eyed female on the cover, complete with roses printed around an overly effeminate man. What the heck? If Gin didn't know better, he would say that his top snipers were reading some kind of shoujo manga.

"Don't be an idiot, Sakura!" Chianti suddenly exclaimed, slamming her fist on the table. "Atsushi will just betray you again if you go back to him!"

Korn glanced up from his volume. "Oh, you're up to that part."

This seemed to provide an opening for Chianti to go into a rant about how much she loathed Atsushi and wanted to put a bullet in his head. Apparently, Ryouta was much better, though Sakura was too busy being infatuated with Atsushi to see it. Korn murmured his agreement. He hoped that Sakura and Ryouta would be the endgame pairing.

Gin narrowed his eyes. He'd heard enough.

"What do you two think you're doing?" he demanded, walking towards them in that menacing way only he could pull off.

Chianti waved the manga at his face. "What does it look like? Vodka's new—"

Korn made a sharp gesture with his hand. Chianti's eyes widened and she clamped her mouth shut. So, Gin thought, the snipers were trying to keep a secret from him, and it seemed to have something to do with Vodka and the manga.

Gin's mouth curved into a cold smile. "What about Vodka?"

Silence. Korn went into default No Expression mode, and Chianti made a show of looking anywhere but at her superior. Gin was about to pursue this line of questioning when the agent in question turned up. Vodka had his trademark hat and glasses on, and he smiled when he caught sight of Gin.

"Aniki, are you ready to go?" Vodka asked.

Gin fixed on his target like a shark who has found its prey. "Vodka," he said far too pleasantly, "do you mind explaining what this is about?" He gestured at the manga.

A faint splotch of pink formed on Vodka's cheeks. "I, er, well—" He swallowed, and his gaze darted from the manga back to Gin's face in a skitterish flurry. The silence dragged on.

"Today would be nice," Gin prompted, his voice harshening.

Vodka's shoulders slumped. "I wrote it."

There was a long pause as Gin digested this information. "You wrote a shoujo manga?"

Vodka nodded.

"You, Vodka."

Vodka nodded again. "Though I go by the alias Morimoto Airi."

He went on to explain that it had just started as a hobby. He had never thought his story would get serialised, let alone that Korn and Chianti would support him in his mangaka endeavours after discovering the truth. Even snipers could enjoy a good shoujo romance, it seemed.

Gin stared at his partner for another long moment. Each second seemed to take an age, and then Gin held out his hand.

"Uh?" Vodka blinked a few times at the extended hand. "Aniki?"

"Give it to me," Gin said.

Vodka took the copy from Korn and handed it over to the silver-haired agent. The three Organisation agents held their breath as Gin opened the manga to the first page and began reading. He was still reading three minutes later, though his expression remained blank.

"Uh, Aniki?"

Gin closed the manga with a snap. "Let's go, Vodka," he said, and tossed the manga back to Korn.

Vodka snapped out of his daze and hurried to catch up to his partner. It was only once they were out of earshot that Gin expressed his opinion.

"Sakura is an idiot," he said bluntly, and then there was a pause. "So, do you have the first volume on hand?"


	13. Initiation in Pink

You have Taliya to thank for this one. I was bored at work and asked for a prompt. It's not much, but enjoy.

* * *

 **Initiation in Pink**

Takagi had not planned to attend the heist. Not that he wasn't curious. There wasn't a member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police who had not heard of Kaitou Kid, the elusive magician in white who stole priceless jewels from impenetrable security systems and sent Nakamori raving into spittle-flying tantrums on a regular basis. No, Takagi was well aware of the phantom thief (and had even had his identity stolen once by said thief), but it also wasn't part of his job description to catch Kid. Murderers? Yes. Kleptomaniac magicians? No. In fact, there was no reason for him to ever get entangled with the thief again. No reason at all.

Except Conan _had_ decided to get involved, and where Conan went, Takagi was sure to be dragged.

So there Takagi was watching puffs of pink smoke fill the hall while mocking laughter echoed around them. He listened to Nakamori swear when the dog-piling police realised they were clutching a dummy; he watched Conan dash up the stairs, small and quick like a flash of blue. And Takagi realised that he could just stand there and let the police's efforts to capture Kid fall apart in puffs of pink, or he could follow the tiny detective and see what happened next.

Takagi followed.

The rooftop was lit with the silvery light of the moon. Kid stood on the railing as if it was nothing to balance on such a thin ledge, his face shadowed. All that could be seen under the rim of his hat was the gleam of a monocle and a taunting grin. Conan faced the thief in an odd stance: one arm upraised so that his watch was pointed at the figure in white.

"I see you brought a friend," Kid said, catching sight of Takagi and dipping his head in a bow of greeting. "Inspector, so nice to see you again."

Kid's voice was soft and almost cooing. The smoothness put Takagi on his guard, despite how friendly the thief sounded. The last time he had run into the thief, he'd been shoved into a suitcase and had his clothes stolen. Conan didn't relax his stance either. If anything, the boy tensed even more.

"Kid!" Conan growled.

Kid dodged whatever the child had fired at him from the watch, laughing all the while. "We really need to work on your manners, Detective-kun," he said. "This habit of yours to shoot first before so much as a hello does not bode well for your future prospects."

Conan lowered his arm. "I'm sure I'll manage."

The thief smiled and removed his hand from his pocket, revealing a glittering emerald. He held the jewel up to moonlight, only to sigh. "Too bad," he said.

Takagi blinked as the emerald sailed towards him. He caught the jewel and stared at the thief in surprise. "Uh—"

"It's not the one I'm looking for," Kid explained with a shrug. "Be sure to return it to the curator for me."

Takagi opened and closed his mouth a few times. Conan was less stunned by the thief's eccentric behaviour and kicked a soccer ball from out of nowhere (seriously, where did the boy get those things?). Kid let out another of his mocking laughs and jumped off the railing, deploying his glider and flying off into the night.

"He just returned the jewel," Takagi said a bit faintly, "even though he just stole it."

Conan's mouth twitched into a smile. "You get used to it."

Takagi wasn't sure if he would, but he thought he could appreciate now why Inspector Nakamori went into spittle-flying rages and why clever little Edogawa Conan enjoyed attending heists. Kid might be a criminal, but there was no denying that the thief was as intriguing as he was aggravating.

Now if only Takagi could get rid of all the pink glitter and confetti stuck to him.


	14. Crash Course to Hell

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Super Short Contest #12: Crash. And no, I don't think anything I've written here would be even close to what Gosho has planned for canon.

* * *

 **Crash Course to Hell**

They told him that his name was Furuya Rei. His parents had died in a car crash. He had been lucky to survive.

He was just a child, and they had underestimated him.

Rei, if that even was his real name, had always been smart. Smarter than average. Smart enough to know that the people in white lab coats who observed him and scribbled on clipboards had not adopted him out of concern; that the facility where he lived was more prison than home, and that the numbers and foreign words the adults spoke were all part of a complicated code.

Smart enough to know that it didn't matter what was truth or lie now, because life and death was just a coin toss for a boy like him. No parents. No past. Nothing to connect him to anyone or anything. It really didn't matter who he was.

Maybe that was why the nickname stung so much.

The other kids had always thought he was weird for his pale blond hair and tanned skin, but being an amnesiac orphan was a much bigger crime. People like him weren't normal. People like him weren't allowed to join in games. They called him "Zero": the boy who was nothing.

He smashed their faces until the skin on his knuckles split.

The kids learnt to do their teasing in groups after that. Much easier to gang up on him. The people in lab coats simply noted on their clipboards that Furuya Rei was prone to "violent fits". Elena was the one who patched him up whenever he returned to the facility bloodied and bruised. She was the only one who had ever bothered to talk to him like a real person, even if she also wore a lab coat.

She was lovely and terrifying: the angel who presided over hell.

"Why do you insist on fighting those children, Rei-kun?" Elena asked one day, dabbing at a cut on his cheek with antiseptic.

Tears clung to Rei's lashes, but his eyes were hard and bitter. "They call me Zero."

"And that bothers you?"

"They only do it because I'm not like them. I don't have parents or a home or even any memory of where I came from." His mouth twisted. "I might as well be nothing."

"Is that what you really think?"

Rei lowered his gaze. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. "I don't know. Maybe."

Elena smoothed a bandage over his cheek. "We all begin from nothing, Rei-kun. A blank canvas becomes art; a lump of clay becomes pottery." She took his chin in her hand, tilting his face up so that he was forced to meet her cool eyes. "Zero suits you more than you realise. If you are nothing, then you can become anything. That is and always has been your purpose."

"My purpose?"

Her lips curved into a smile. It was the first smile he had ever seen her make, though there was something self-deprecating about the expression. "We have high hopes for you, Rei-kun. Don't let us down."

She let him go and stood to her full height. He watched her leave, small, bruised and confused. The next day, the people in lab coats handed him a pistol and told him to shoot targets. Rei did as ordered. By the end of the session, he had a perfect row of headshots. The people in lab coats were pleased. They were often pleased with him after that.

Rei got no satisfaction from their praise.

 **oOo**

"Yo, Mr Perfect Scores. What are you doing drinking in this corner alone?"

Rei swished the alcohol round his glass. He didn't bother to look at the man who sat opposite him at the table. "What do you want, Vermouth?"

The Organisation agent laughed, allowing the feminine sound to slip through her disguise. "Oh, you _are_ good. You saw right through me."

He glanced at her from under his lashes, taking in the familiar face and the toothpick she idly chewed. "Date and I don't talk anymore. You slipped up."

She shrugged and leaned against the chair. "I just thought a friendly face would help."

A bitter taste filled his mouth that had nothing to do with alcohol. "What do you want?" he repeated.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" She leaned forward, and some of the mocking amusement faded from her eyes. "I hear you've got yourself a codename now. Are you sure about this?"

"You know why."

She did, of course. She was there when the fire consumed the facility. So beautiful, so deadly. Rei had faced her without flinching, tiny and singed and surrounded by bodies. He hadn't hesitated when he pointed the gun at her face, but he hadn't fired. Neither had she.

"You're a fool," she told him. "You had a chance to escape, yet you came back yourself. What do you hope to achieve?"

He knew what she was really saying. He wasn't the Silver Bullet. He was just a failed project. The Organisation would claim him before he could do any damage.

Rei took a sip of his drink. "Maybe it's fate."

"Fate?"

He shrugged and rested his forehead against the cold glass.

Vermouth made a tsking sound. "You're drunk."

"You just noticed?"

She frowned and removed the cup from his hand. "Don't do anything reckless. You're in too deep now. You can't afford to make mistakes."

"Is that concern for me or concern for your own secret?"

Vermouth laughed. "Always so sharp." She stood up from the table and downed the rest of his drink. "Just remember to keep your end of the bargain."

"I stay out of your way and you stay out of mine, right?"

"That's right," she confirmed, and then a smile curved her lips. "Welcome to hell, Bourbon. Try not to get yourself killed."

Rei watched her leave with no expression. "Hell, huh?" he murmured.

What a joke. He had never left, or maybe it was just the taint of the Organisation had never left him. It was the reason he couldn't forget, even when he joined the police academy. Even after he graduated and got assigned to the secret police. The only difference this time round was that his minder was a blonde devil instead of a presiding angel.

That, and he wasn't confused anymore.

 _If you are nothing, then you can become anything. That is and always has been your purpose._

A twisted smile curved Rei's mouth. Maybe he wasn't the Silver Bullet, but he was Zero. He wasn't ready to give up just yet.


	15. Of Ugly Sobbing and Ice Cream Binges

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Super Short Contest #13: Mess.

* * *

 **Of Ugly Sobbing and Ice Cream Binges**

Gin should have noticed the warning signs. Korn had been suspiciously chirpy when passing by him at the entrance to leave Headquarters. The monosyllabic man normally spoke in grunts and robotic one-liners, but Korn had not only wished Gin a good morning, he had even smiled. Plus, there was the fact that Headquarters had been quiet. Too quiet, as if a noxious gas had been unleashed and anyone inside who had a brain had fled far, far away, leaving only empty corridors and the faint hum of electricity.

Yes, Gin should have noticed the warning signs. But he had woken up later than usual because his alarm clock had died. Worse, he had run out of coffee and had not been able to make a quick stop at a café on the way (he had assumed that he could get something at Headquarters if all else failed). As such, his ability to think rationally was still on the sleepy side. This meant the little clues that would have normally stood out like broken thumbs were just a haze of oddities and random occurrences.

That is, until he heard the ugly sobbing.

Gin flinched. His hand was already pushing the door open to the morning tea room. It was too late to turn back. The agent with the butterfly tattoo curled up on the couch had already spotted him, red-rimmed eyes sparking with recognition. In her hand, she clutched a spoon and a tub of ice cream. Her cheeks were still ballooned from the giant scoop she had just stuffed into her mouth. Next to her, Vodka sat with his hands raised in an appeasing gesture and he was making awkward noises that might have been an attempt to be soothing. His gaze fixed on Gin in a silent cry for help.

Oh, hell. The monster had been unleashed.

"Get rejected again, Chianti?" Gin asked conversationally.

Let it be reminded that Gin had not had his morning coffee yet. Survival instincts were decidedly subpar, which was why she still managed to surprise him a little when she whipped out a rifle from out of nowhere and aimed it at his head.

"Come here to mock me?" she snarled, though it came out more like "umph 'er u umph'ee".

Gin repressed a sigh. Chianti was a trigger-happy crazy person on her best days, but she got that much worse when dealing with a rejection. Vodka made more awkward noises and his hand hovered near her shoulder, not quite touching. The silent cry for help was much stronger in his eyes now.

"Calm down, Chianti," Vodka said in his gentlest voice. "You know Aniki wasn't mocking you."

She swallowed her ice cream and rubbed a hand across her eyes. "Of course he was. All men are jerks. You both included."

Vodka eyed the barrel of the rifle warily. "Okay, we're all jerks. Just put the gun down."

She obliged, but only to stuff more ice cream into her mouth. Gin didn't ask how this mess had been started—frankly, he didn't care about Chianti's love life, or lack of; only her ability to hit targets—but he still got the story from Vodka, intermingled with more ugly sobbing and angry exclamations from Chianti. It seemed the sniper had met a man at a bar. As Chianti was prone to do, she fell in love with him on first sight and decided to declare her love. Man got scared and rejected her. Chianti cornered him later and declared her love more forcefully. Man got more scared. Chianti got angry. Man ran away.

Cue ice cream binge.

"Do we have to do clean up again?" Gin asked with a sigh.

"I'sh 'umph," she replied.

Gin raised an eyebrow.

Chianti swallowed the ice cream. "I said it's fine. I didn't pull a gun on this one. No cops will be coming."

"So long as you don't start stalking him again," Vodka muttered.

Her eyes flashed. "What was that?"

Vodka raised his hands in surrender, once more finding himself at the other end of a rifle. "I said it's too bad he didn't see your wonderful qualities and agree to go out with you."

Chianti stared at him suspiciously for a moment, but was too emotional to debate the issue. She scowled and stuffed more ice cream into her mouth. Vodka let out a visible sigh of relief.

Gin shook his head. "Something really needs to be done about this woman."

Maybe there was some Love 101 course out there: How Not to Scare a Guy Off in a Second. Anything that would stop Chianti from becoming an emotional mess and holding hostage by gunpoint anyone who was foolish enough to get close to her. Sadly, he had to include himself in that group today, and he still hadn't had his coffee.

Gin repressed a sigh. It was going to be a long morning.


	16. The Demon in Low-Rise Panties

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Super Short Contest #16: Mermaid.

* * *

 **The Demon in Low-Rise Panties**

Kaito's only thought was to flee. His jaw throbbed from where the crazy boy-girl detective had kicked him in the face; he had no desire to stick around for round two. So, when the others were distracted with trying to cover Boy-Girl's panties, he took the opportunity to change back into his suit and jump out the window. His glider deployed in a flutter of white cloth, spreading out like wings from his back.

"That was close," Kaito muttered.

A weight latched onto his leg, jerking him back and throwing his glider off balance. He cursed and glanced down, getting a glimpse of messy black hair and long, exposed legs. Oh, crap, those low-rise panties looked awfully familiar.

"Kid!" the demon growled, raising her head to flash him a grin that sent shivers down his spine.

Kaito resisted the urge to kick her off. He had jumped out of the top floor window and didn't want to be held accountable for any injuries she might get from the fall. That, and he wouldn't put it past the sharp-toothed demon to find a way to drag him down with her. The girl was clearly crazy.

"Don't think I'm going to let you get away that easily!" The demon— _Sera_ —said, tightening her grip on his leg.

Kaito just grunted. Their double weight was making it very hard to use the glider. In fact, they were losing altitude far too quickly for his comfort. He spotted a park and aimed for the stretch of grass. Once they were close enough, he pushed the button to collapse his glider, turning it back to flexible cloth. Kaito's reflexes kicked in so that he had barely touched the grass before he was on his feet. He didn't pause to see if Sera had done the same; being a smart fellow with a healthy sense of self-preservation, Kaito decided it would be a good idea to start running.

"Come back here!"

Sera's angry shout sounded far too close. Kaito put on an extra burst of speed, but something got hold of his cape—demon fingers—and tugged. He stumbled and felt the cloth tighten around his body, pulling him back; the next instant the cape was fluttering away behind him like a magic carpet and he was running in only his suit and top hat.

"KID!"

"Not good, not good, not good," Kaito chanted under his breath.

The demon was fast. She didn't even care that she was running around a Tokyo park in low-rise panties. Kaito had to hand it to her; that was quite some determination and dedication. Still, he had no desire to be caught by her (that kick had really done a number on him)—especially since the Blush Mermaid had been a fake anyway.

Kaito reached into his suit and tossed a smoke bomb behind him. The angry growl that followed told him the demon had not been deterred. In fact, he had only made the beast angrier. Not good. The area was too exposed to use sleeping gas, and his stun gun didn't have any charge left in it. Well, bother. There went his easy take-down methods.

"I'm going to bring you down!" Sera yelled.

Kaito glanced over his shoulder—just in time to see a foot come flying for his face.

"Oh, shi—"

He bent right back, curving his spine like a master of Limbo. Sera flew over him, landing in a crouched form before springing at him again. Kaito dodged her attack and then pulled out his card gun. It wasn't the best weapon to use for close-combat fighting, but it might at least distract her.

"Young lady," he said in an appeasing voice, flipping to avoid another kick. "Perhaps we can talk about this."

"Talk, my arse!" Sera retorted, moving in with a few quick punches. "You undressed me and stole my identity!"

Kid ducked and side-stepped her fists, inwardly thanking all the practice he got dodging projectiles and Aoko's mops; it was coming in handy. "You were in the men's restroom!" he pointed out. "I thought you were a guy!"

"I have boobs!"

Kaito couldn't help the snort that escaped his lips. This was a mistake, as the demon roared in an unholy sound, levelling up her power to Super Saiyan Demon Panties mode. She charged—somehow managing to avoid all of his card shots—and then tackled him round his middle, knocking him to the ground. All the breath vanished from his lungs.

"Ha!" Sera exclaimed, straddling his hips and grinning down at him. "I've got you now, Kid!"

Kaito swallowed. He was conscious that his top hat had fallen off, exposing his face. A word that rhymed with duck kept repeating over and over in his head.

Sera's grin widened. "Now then, Kaitou Kid, allow me to—"

Kaito _moved._ His arms twisted with lightning-speed and strength, breaking out of her hold. The card gun was suddenly between them, and he fired two shots. Fabric ripped and her tank top fluttered forward. Sera gasped; Kaito released a smoke bomb and made a run for it.

"KID!"

The scream was like the war cry of hell. Kaito tried his best to ignore it, sprinting for his life with burning cheeks. He had only caught an (unintentional) glimpse, but now he could say for certain that, yes, Sera the Panty-Wearing Demon did have boobs. Was he proud of his tactic to earn his freedom? Absolutely not. He felt riddled with guilt and embarrassment, but desperate times had called for desperate measures.

At least he had left her his Kid outfit to change into. That was something, right?

"I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

Kaito let out an unmanly squeak. The demon had found him again, though she was now wearing his blue shirt half-buttoned to cover her breasts. He groaned in dismay and prayed to every god he knew for luck and protection.

Somehow, he just knew that this was going to be a long night.


	17. A Girl's Checklist

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Prompt Exchange #8. The prompt I was given was "Sonoko could be serious about the most surprising things". I had a super hard time with this one (this is actually Take Four after three failed attempts to write a response), but hopefully you enjoy it all the same.

* * *

 **A Girl's Checklist**

Sonoko had a checklist. Sometimes the items featured were as simple as eat a famous fruit parfait, wear matching Lolita outfits with her best friend, or get love fortunes at a particular shrine. Others were more difficult. Romance featured a lot on her checklist. Being the youngest daughter of the wealthy Suzuki family meant that she had endless money at her fingertips; it wasn't hard to visit places or partake of special food. But money couldn't buy love (as she had learnt all too well when the guys who caught her eye insisted on falling for Ran instead, no matter how much Sonoko staged romantic encounters or used her feminine wiles). Romance was something she had to work at all by herself—unless she let her mother arrange a marriage for her. Not that she would.

Anyway, the point was that Sonoko was a romantic. No arranged marriages for her, thank you very much. Instead, she had many "firsts" that she was determined to check off on her list. Summer Romance had been ticked off, as had Get a Boyfriend. True, Kyogoku Makoto wasn't the guy she had dreamed of as her ideal, but his "samurai" appeal and the fact he was devoted to her (okay, he was devoted to karate, but she was still up there on his priorities) meant that she had still fallen for him. Plus, it was really romantic that Makoto had pitted himself against the undefeatable Kaitou Kid for her heart and to win her parents' approval.

Still, now that she had finally got a steady (albeit long-distance) boyfriend, she had thought that many other "firsts" would easily be ticked off. A kiss, calling each other by first names without an honorific, getting couple rings, and the all-important Become a Woman (aka, lose virginity). Shoujo manga demanded that all of these things be ticked off before she graduated from high school, and that date was nearing far too close for comfort. Sonoko was left with no choice but to enact The Plan.

The Plan began by luring Makoto from overseas with a cryptic note. It was flattering and reassuring that he arrived just as scheduled. Things did get a bit awkward when he realised she was not in trouble nor had a romantic rival trying to sweep her off her feet. Indeed, the two both blushed their way through her explanation that she just wanted to go on a date with him. Luckily he accepted, so Stage One of the plan was checked off as a success.

She swept him off first to get the desired couple rings. He didn't seem to understand the point of wearing matching jewellery—even pointed out that he couldn't wear a ring since it wouldn't be appropriate for karate. Sonoko pouted and told him that, regardless of whether he wore the ring on his finger or not, it was an important rite for a couple. She gushed about how wearing matching rings would bring them closer together; plus, it would make it more obvious to others that they were in a relationship. The latter was a selling point for Makoto. He stopped resisting and the two were soon sporting matching silver rings. Get Matching Couple Rings could now be checked off the list.

Sonoko was still admiring the ring when they later entered a restaurant to enjoy a romantic dinner. This was where she had to bust out the real moves, so she took great delight in removing her coat to reveal the slinky little number she had chosen just for him: a dress of dark blue silk that bared enough skin to stir his appetite in a way quite different from what the restaurant could satisfy.

"Sonoko-san," Makoto said bluntly, "you should put your coat back on."

She pursed her lips. "But it's warm in here."

Never mind that it would ruin Stage Two: Get His Attention with a Sexy Dress.

"A lady should dress modestly," he argued, trying to drape the coat back over her. "You'll draw too much attention to yourself wearing something like that."

"What's wrong with drawing attention?" She shrugged off the coat and folded her arms under her breasts, emphasising her cleavage. "Is it so bad that I want to dress up for my boyfriend who I haven't seen in a while?"

Makoto's cheeks tinged with pink and he averted his face. "I'd rather you—"

"I wore this for _you_ ," she cut in, learning forward and poking him in the stomach.

Mm, nice and toned. Wait, she couldn't afford to get distracted by his body. He was supposed to be getting distracted by hers.

Makoto frowned and gripped her shoulders. His hands were warm and calloused, creating little tingles where he touched her bare skin. "Sonoko-san," he said in that serious way of his, "you are a very attractive girl. I do not want other men to look at you. Please do not wear such revealing clothing in public like this just for me."

Sonoko's blush darkened. The wave of heat seemed to spread from the tips of her ears all the way to her toes. Well, when he put it like that, she supposed she could wear the coat. But only because he called her very attractive.

She slipped her coat back on and sat opposite him at the table for two that had been reserved for them. It was all very nice, with soft music playing in the background and a candle lit to offer a romantic glow. Makoto looked especially handsome. He was wearing his glasses—a fact she did not mind at all since it gave him that sexy, intelligent vibe—and his button-down shirt and pants were clean and nicely pressed. The little plaster he always wore only added to his charm (at least in her besotted opinion). She was lucky to have such an attractive boyfriend.

That was when Sonoko realised she was allowing herself to get distracted again. That was no good at all. She had a list to get through. It was time to move onto the next item to be checked: get him to agree to drop the honorific on their names.

"U-um," she began, fighting the heat that seemed permanently attached to her cheeks, "since we've been dating for a while now, I was thinking that maybe we could call each other by our names."

Makoto's brow furrowed. "Don't we already?"

She fidgeted with her chopsticks. "I mean, uh, like if I call you Makoto."

The boy froze. He had definitely noticed the lack of "san" attached.

"It'd make me feel closer to you and, um, I think—"

"I understand, Sonoko."

Her eyes darted to his. There was a moment where they just smiled and blushed at each other. Sonoko did a little victory dance in her head. The Plan was working. She was making excellent progress checking off things on her list. Maybe, just maybe, the next stage of her plan would also go smoothly.

Sonoko tried not to worry about what would come later—even if her heart did beat a little faster—and so focussed on relaxing and enjoying the dinner. Makoto was quite oblivious to the machinations being weaved around him, so he had much less trouble relaxing. As such, when the two paid and left the restaurant, he had no reason to refuse her suggestion that they go for a walk. Nor did he question her motive when she looped her arm with his and pressed her body close (though his cheeks did get a bit pink … as did hers. Damn. She was going to have to get a hold on that if she wanted to seduce him).

In any case, the two took a leisurely stroll through the lit up city, content to chat and enjoy each other's company. The storm set in right on cue (Sonoko had calculated the bad weather forecast into her plan), as did a convenient lack of battery on her cell phone (Makoto had forgotten his, a fact she had also taken into account). Not only that but she had steered them towards the hotel area of the city, making her next suggestion appear as innocent as it possibly could. After all, every shoujo manga heroine knew that when a storm hit and you were drenched and stranded in the city late at night, the most important thing was to find cover.

"Why don't we just take shelter in there for a bit?" Sonoko said, pointing to one of the hotels. "We'll both get sick at this rate."

Makoto blushed. "I don't think—"

"Come on," Sonoko urged, dragging him towards the door. "It'll be fine."

His protests were overborn when she demanded to know if he wanted her to get a chill and come down with a fever. Makoto did not, so they entered the hotel and paid for a room. Sonoko congratulated herself on a job well done. They were all alone in a private room and it would only be a matter of time before he fell for her charms. Well, if she could bring herself to work up the courage to actually begin the final stage of her plan. Seducing him had seemed so much easier in her head.

Makoto moved to the far side of the room and seemed content to stay there. Sonoko inwardly huffed. All this distance was not what she had in mind. Time to get his attention.

She removed her coat and hung it up to dry. The rain had been so heavy that her dress had got wet as well and now clung to her body. Makoto's eyes widened when he noticed her attire. True to form, he tried to get her to cover up again.

"My coat is soaked," she pointed out.

He couldn't argue with this statement. After all, he had also removed his wet jacket out of discomfort. She decided to muster her courage then and suggest they make use of the bathroom to shower and change while their clothes dried. There were probably some complimentary robes in the drawer or closet. Makoto gave her a long look. Perhaps he was finally catching on to her plan. Still, the fact she was shivering from genuine cold made him relax again.

"You go first," he said, handing her one of the robes that he had indeed found in the drawer.

Sonoko murmured her thanks. She felt oddly shy now that he was standing close and looking straight at her with those intent eyes of his. Giddy, of course, but also shy. Makoto was so very nice and attractive. Just with that one act he had turned her into a mess of stomach flutters and pounding heartbeats. Needless to say, it was a very pink-faced Sonoko who left for the bathroom.

"Pull it together," she ordered herself, leaning against the closed door and willing her heart rate to slow. "This might be your only chance."

Her graduation was looming, and she refused to be the girl who failed to complete her Coming of Age rites just because Makoto was off studying overseas or competing in karate championships. This was an opportunity that could not be wasted. The fact he'd even let himself be dragged into the hotel suggested he was, however subconsciously, okay with her plan. At least, that was what she told herself. There was also a chance that Makoto was just one of those people who could be so pragmatic and obtuse that he only saw it as a means of stopping her from getting a chill…

Ah, whatever. The point was that they had both come this far.

Sonoko slapped her cheeks to make herself focus, then stripped off her wet clothes so she could shower. It was kind of odd (and a little exhilarating) to think that Makoto was on the other side of the door. Her heart was still fluttering when she slipped the robe on and exited the bathroom. Makoto had been sitting on the bed, but he started to his feet at the sight of her. The loose robe might not reveal as much skin as the dress, but it was obvious her "Just Showered" appearance had an effect.

"All done," she said with a smile.

Makoto audibly swallowed. He grabbed the other robe and excused himself before escaping into the bathroom. Sonoko allowed her grin to widen and hung up her clothes to dry, then sat on the bed to wait for him. He did not take long. Soon, they were both sitting on the bed. Well, he sat ramrod straight on the very edge while she tried to muster the courage to carry out the final stage of her plan.

"The rain is really heavy," she observed to break the silence.

"Yeah."

More silence.

Sonoko shuffled closer. "Makoto, you could at least look at me."

He turned his head. The sudden proximity of their faces made them both blush. She resisted the urge to pull back. Now was not the time to get shy. Instead, she moistened her lips and leaned forward, conscious of her fluttering pulse. Just a bit closer.

"Sonoko." His hands were suddenly on her shoulders. "Maybe we should just try find a phone so we can call for a taxi."

"We've already paid to have the hotel room for a couple of hours," she reminded him. "Besides, I finally feel warm and dry. You _did_ say you didn't want me to get sick."

He furrowed his brow and gave her another of those long, assessing looks. Definitely had caught on then, but no matter. She was a girl on a mission. That was why she shuffled even closer so that their thighs were touching. Every bit of contact counted. At least, that was what she had read. Touch was more powerful than a sexy dress; more likely to shake a man's defence, to make him want more. Nothing had prepared her for the fact that it would have just as much impact on her though. Her heart jumped and fluttered in her chest, pounding so hard it was like her body was throbbing in time to the rhythm.

She wanted him to kiss her. She really, really wanted him to kiss her.

Makoto's grip tightened on her shoulders. She had the satisfaction of seeing his gaze drop to her lips. All he had to do was close those last few inches. So, so close.

 _Do it_ , Sonoko urged with her eyes. _Just kiss me, damn it._

Her telepathic pleas were not wasted. Makoto might be karate obsessed and a bit too much of a conservative for her tastes, but he was still a hot-blooded male and was very much attracted to her. He dipped his head, even as his hands slid down her arms and tugged her closer. Their lips touched: soft, sweet and far, far too short. Her eyes were still closed in expectation when he pulled back from the kiss.

"We should go," he said firmly. "Coming here was a bad idea."

Sonoko blinked out of her daze. "Huh?"

"Being alone like this—it's not good."

She begged to differ. It was very, very good. After all, she had finally got him to kiss her. Maybe with a bit more encouragement, she might even get him to do more. Too bad Makoto saw right through her intentions. He held her back by her arms.

"Sonoko," he said in a low voice.

She ignored the warning. His grip wasn't aimed to restrain—no doubt he had not wanted to hurt her—so she pushed forward, including beyond her own nerves, and pressed her mouth to his. The kiss was clumsy. It felt too much like a mashing of lips and the angle was awkward. Still, his resolve weakened a little—at least enough for his grip to slacken even more and let her try from a different angle. That was much better. It even got a proper response out of him.

Apparently, listening to her instincts paid off.

His arm somehow ended up around her waist. Blood pounded in her ears, pulsing through every inch of her. She wasn't sure who opened their mouth first, but she did know that he was the one to break away. His hair was mussed and his glasses had been discarded at some point. Both of them were breathing hard. It was kind of scary. She'd never thought it would be like this: so easy to lose control; so easy to get caught up in the flutters and the caresses and the impulses that whispered more, more, more.

Impulses that still whispered to her.

Sonoko swallowed. She was conscious of the fact that she was practically sitting on his lap. It made her even more aware of his warmth, of the muscled firmness of his body. More flutters started in her stomach: part nerves, part excitement. Though she had to admit it was mostly nerves. This was all so new and overwhelming. She licked her chapped lips and leaned in to kiss him again.

"Wait." Makoto forced her back, gulping in a breath. "Let's stop."

"Why?"

"I don't want to do something we'll regret," he said honestly.

"Who says we'll regret it?"

His brow furrowed. "Why do you want to rush this?"

She blinked, even as a blush stained her cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just—"

"Sonoko." His voice was gentle but firm. "I don't know why you're pushing yourself so much, but isn't this enough?" He cupped her cheek. "We don't need to rush."

 _I want to respect you,_ his eyes seemed to plead. _Let me do that._

She lowered her head in surrender. Maybe even a little relief. A part of her had known she was forcing things— _rushing_ things, as he said. The unchecked items on her list had been weighing on her mind; she had thought The Plan was her only choice to get success before graduation. Not that kissing him hadn't felt nice. It had. But she had also been really nervous. Perhaps more than even she had realised.

She was lucky to have Makoto as her boyfriend. Not every guy would have stopped in that moment.

"Let's call a taxi," she mumbled. "I'm sure the person at the front desk will let us borrow their phone."

Makoto pressed a kiss to her forehead and then released her. "You get dressed first. I'll wait here."

She nodded and collected her wet clothes before shutting herself in the bathroom. A breath escaped her lips. Well, that had been embarrassing. It wasn't every day a girl got called out for trying to seduce her boyfriend. Still, she couldn't complain too much. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more pleased she became. Today had still been a day of many "firsts". True, it looked unlikely that she would be able to tick off Become a Woman by graduation, but that was okay. Slowly but surely her list of "romantic firsts" would be marked complete. After all, she was Suzuki Sonoko. She never gave up on the things that mattered to her.


	18. Of Alcohol and Robotic Cats

This was written for _Poirot Café's_ Themed Writing Contest #32. The prompt was "black" (optional prompts included a complete absence of light, the colour symbolic of death and despair, and a morbid type of humour). My muse likes to be contrary, so here's my very _non_ -dark offering.

* * *

 **Of Alcohol and Robotic Cats**

Vodka had a secret. Despite being part of a criminal organisation with a penchant for naming agents after alcoholic beverages, he was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. The hard stuff went straight to his head. It was like being struck with the finger of Dionysius: one second sober, the next drunk off his face and talking to the ceiling like it was his best friend. Ah, not that he was the type to talk about Classical gods. He totally didn't have a major in that. Because he was a good criminal agent who just liked weapons and conquering and pillaging and—

Oh, wait, that was a good Viking. Er, uh, he liked guns and cigars and—

…

Crud. Where was the guide Gin had given him? It was so hard to remember what a good criminal agent was supposed to do sometimes.

Anyway, the point was that no matter how much he studied and followed _Gin's Quick and Dirty Tips to be a BAMF: a self-help guide for the hapless criminal_ (split into ten, easy steps, and only 1000 yen for a limited time), Vodka could not overcome his curse of being a lightweight. Even the "prissy drinks", as Chianti called them, got to him too fast. It was only thanks to Gin's mothering—ahem, careful monitoring—that he had been able to avoid making a fool of himself so far or revealing his secret. Gin took his duties as Vodka's mentor quite seriously. Though the silver-haired man did swear a lot when Vodka made mistakes. And threaten to withhold treats.

Vodka didn't like it when his treats got withheld.

But he digressed. There was a reason that he was especially lamenting his curse on this fine Saturday morning. One: he had a hangover and the gap in the curtains was letting in way too much sunlight. Two: there was a naked woman in his bed. Vodka didn't mind naked women per se, but he did mind this one. She had short red hair and a tattoo like a swallowtail butterfly's wing on her left eyelid. Only a man with a death wish would welcome such a temperamental, trigger-happy woman into his bed. Apparently, being drunk had made him join the ranks of males with no sense of self-preservation. A sober Vodka would have fled for the hills the moment Chianti had shown even a hint of sexual interest in him.

Darn it, this was why he had not wanted Gin to leave on that trip. Vodka always managed to mess things up when left to his own devices. But Gin had told him that he was a big boy now and did not need a minder. Gin had wanted to relax _on his own_ during the long weekend (being the BAMFiest of all BAMFs was tiring even for Gin, it seemed), so Vodka had been given no choice but to suck it up and deal with it. A part of him had even hoped to make his bro proud.

Except then Vodka had ended up getting roped into a nomikai with some of the other agents (he was still learning how to say "no"). And then he had been pressured into doing shots with Korn and Chianti (again, being able to say "no" would have helped). He thought he might have passed out at some point, because he'd later discovered that someone had drawn on his face in black marker to make him look like Doraemon. Verboobs had been nice enough to give him some make-up wipes to help get rid of the marker (though she had mocked him the entire time), but still. That had been embarrassing. Vodka regretted that he had not stayed home to marathon Korean dramas. He should have known a nomikai (at least without Gin to mother—er, watch over him) would only bring trouble.

Alas, Vodka had not listened to his instincts. Worse, instead of taking a taxi home after the Doraemon incident, he had got dragged off to a new bar for a nijikai (really, it was most inconvenient that he couldn't say "no" to people). Granted, this had actually worked in his favour in the beginning. He won several arm-wrestling competitions and earned the title of Iron Arm the Unconquerable, so even though he'd still had traces of a robotic cat drawn onto his face, people at least stopped calling him Doraemon. Unfortunately, Chianti had then decided to take a fancy to one of the other pub goers (the sniper was very drunk by then and had reached what Korn called her "cat on heat" stage). It was also no surprise to anyone that she had got rejected (the guy had run away screaming that she was insane). Needless to say, all hell had broken loose.

Vodka wasn't sure how Chianti ended up coming back to his apartment. He'd been awfully drunk and everything was rather hazy after she had smashed a table—yes, a table—over some guy's head. But the fact remained that the redhead was now in his bed. Naked. It was most alarming. True, he was still wearing his underwear, but that didn't necessarily mean anything.

He frowned at the woman sleeping next to him. Just what had happened after the nijikai to cause this unwanted coupling? He and Chianti were co-workers, but there had never been any sparks between them. Not that he thought Chianti was ugly. She wasn't as nicely endowed as Verboo—er, Vermouth—but he still found the redhead attractive. At least when she wasn't acting crazy or threatening to put a bullet through him. And maybe that was the problem. He knew Chianti too well. She was terrifying, temperamental; in fact, she was pretty much the poster girl for Girlfriend from Hell. Heck, even the random guys who took her fancy and had no reason to think of her as a trigger-happy psycho still sensed that she was the human version of a praying mantis.

Fact was, with Chianti it was always better not to "tap that". Except it seemed that he had. Just the thought made him break out in a sweat. Chianti might look cute in his bed: all relaxed expression and creamy skin, but it was a ruse. A honey trap designed to ensnare. Vodka knew that he was a dead man. He would have already bolted if they weren't in his apartment (he couldn't exactly escape from his own house).

Chianti made a soft sound and shifted in the bed. Vodka froze. Her eyelashes fluttered open and then her gaze zeroed in on him. There was a moment where they just stared at each other. Vodka was annoyed to feel his cheeks warm a little. He wasn't used to this whole Morning After thing—especially not when the person involved was his co-worker.

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, er—"

He trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. Did he wish her good morning? Say something about the sex he could only assume they'd had but which he couldn't remember? If only Gin's guide to BAMF-ness had a section on what to do for this scenario.

Chianti snorted. "You still have whiskers on your face."

Vodka's blush darkened and he rubbed at his cheek. The sniper seemed to think that was enough of a greeting, because she got off the bed—not even attempting to cover her body—and demanded to know where she could find the toilet. Apparently, her bladder was in need of relieving (though she phrased it in a less polite way). Vodka pointed out the door for her. Once he was alone, he struggled to pull himself together.

Maybe it was just his ego talking, but wasn't she acting kind of weird? Chianti didn't seem to care at all that they'd had drunken sex together. Even when she returned from the toilet, she didn't bring up the matter. Instead, she declared that she was hungry and hoped he had some decent food in the house.

"Uh, yeah," he said, still feeling a bit at a loss. "But—"

Chianti wasn't listening. Her nose scrunched and she sniffed her arm. A word that sounded a lot like "buck" escaped her lips. "I still smell like vomit."

Vodka blinked. Okay, he was glad that Chianti wasn't about to turn all Praying Mantis on him; however, the fact she cared more about relieving her bladder or that she smelt like vomit was a little upsetting. He was still a guy with feelings. Just because he didn't remember what had happened between them last night didn't mean that he wasn't troubled by it. Seeing Chianti dismiss the whole thing as nothing—not even worth talking about, in fact—was not helping.

"You're really not going to say anything?" he demanded.

Chianti scrunched her nose even more. "Eh? What are you talking about?"

Actually, her question was more like "What are you CENSORED talking about, you CENSORED CENSORED?", but that was beside the point. What mattered was that she was still playing dense.

He gestured between them. "Well, uh, normally wouldn't this be an issue? We're co-workers."

"What? What do you mean 'this'? And what does the fact we work together have to do with anything?"

(Again, censored words have been removed)

"I mean this." He made more awkward hand gestures.

Chianti huffed in irritation. "Do I look like I speak the sign language of idiots? Stop pussy-footing around and get to the point!"

Now it was Vodka's turn to get frustrated (and blush). He couldn't believe she was making him spell this out. "I mean the fact we had sex last night!" he exclaimed.

There was a long pause. Chianti's eyes widened, then crinkled, and then she burst out laughing. In fact, she laughed so hard that she clutched her stomach, struggled to breathe, and even got a few tears in her eyes. Vodka felt extremely annoyed. It wasn't _that_ funny, was it?

"You're such an idiot," she said, wiping a tear from her cheek. "As if I'd have sex with a gorilla like you."

Vodka opened and closed his mouth like a fish that had just been pulled out from water. "What?" he finally managed to say. "But you were naked in my bed, and—"

"You vomited on me," Chianti said bluntly. "A lot. Vomited all over yourself as well." She narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky I took pity on you. I was tempted to just leave you after you passed out."

He floundered a bit more, not sure how to process this new scenario she had painted for him. "Then why were you in my bed?"

"I was drunk and didn't want to sleep on the floor." A shrug. "What does it matter? We didn't have sex, so stop getting your panties in a twist like some over-sensitive virgin." She turned away from him. "Anyway, I'm going to have a shower. I smell like vomit and that pisses me off. You can start paying me back for my kindness by making me breakfast and getting some clothes prepared for me."

Vodka was still gaping like a fish when the bathroom door slammed behind her. Then he repressed a whimper. "Aniki, hurry and come back."

Gin would know how to fix this problem. Because this was indeed a problem, regardless of what had happened last night. The fact remained that the redhead was in his apartment, had no qualms about bossing him around, and seemed to think he owed her favours. In short, she was a devil who had come to claim his soul through the guise of friendship, and he wasn't sure how to get rid of her.

Vodka sighed and ran his hand through the bristles of hair that covered his head. Next time, he was definitely going to just stay home and marathon Korean dramas.

* * *

A "nomikai" is basically a work drinking party. You don't have to drink alcohol at these functions, but it is pretty much expected you will attend. It's also a chance for co-workers to let loose and enjoy each other's company outside of the normal work routine. "Nijikai" is like an after party when people (usually) split off into smaller groups to get drunk(er) at another bar, etc.

"Doraemon" is a robotic cat from the popular manga series _Doraemon_ by Fujiko F. Fujio.


End file.
